


Asynchronous Circuit

by Jessepinwheel



Series: Functionally Complete [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (thematically and structurally if not aesthetically), Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker is an Idiot, Anakin gets roasted constantly, Attachment does not equal love in this fic, Blackmail, Case Fic, Detective Noir, Detective Obi-Wan Kenobi, Gen, Investigation, Jedi Culture Respected, Kidnapping, Mystery, Obi-Wan's Terrible Childhood, POV First Person, Qui-Gon "Probably Shouldn't Have Been Allowed To Take Care Of A Child" Jinn, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, That's Not How The Force Works, Unreliable Narrator, not that that's super relevant since Obi-Wan isn't a Jedi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 117,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23998945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessepinwheel/pseuds/Jessepinwheel
Summary: Twenty-two years ago on Melida/Daan, Obi-Wan left the Jedi Order to fight in a war. He never returned to the Temple.Now, a few months into the Clone Wars, a Jedi Knight shows up in Obi-Wan's office in Coruscant's undercity, looking for help with a blackmail problem. Blackmail would be simple enough, but this--as with all things involving the Jedi--has something much bigger behind it. Trouble might be Obi-Wan's business, but this is a little above his pay grade.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Bail Organa, Obi-Wan Kenobi & CT-7567 | Rex, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Darth Maul
Series: Functionally Complete [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1879423
Comments: 1323
Kudos: 1527
Collections: Anything But Qui-Gon, Jedi-Friendly, Mayfriend's Favourites, Suggested Good Reads, TWT FIC REC CHAT, favourite fics from a galaxy far far away





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An asynchronous circuit is a circuit that operates independently of the overall system's clock, which allows it to work faster and with less interference but can also cause errors due to untimely inputs from outside the system.
> 
> After writing Capacitance, I decided two things: a) Obi-Wan 'Infinite Sadness' Kenobi reminds me in some ways of Philip 'Lonely Sack of Shit' Marlowe, and b) it would be funny to write a detective drama in the Star Wars universe. So, instead of working on my actual supernatural hardboiled detective noir novel, I wrote like 90k of this in like...five weeks. NaNo can eat my ass.
> 
> I went into this story trying to imagine Obi-Wan by way of Philip Marlowe--a man who is jaded and tired but still sees beauty and kindness and genuinely wants to do the right thing. But due to the aims of this story (to have Obi-Wan solve mysteries and also tell a lot of people about his Terrible Childhood), there's basically no way to make this story read like a Philip Marlowe book. For one thing, Obi-Wan has a support network, so he's already one step above Philip Marlowe levels of Lonely Motherfucker, and for another, I can't emulate Raymond Chandler's writing style, even ignoring the 40s idiosyncrasies and vernacular which I have chosen to largely forego in this story due to Star Wars not being a remotely 40s setting. So I just went ahead and did my own thing. The style's probably more Hammett than Chandler, come to think of it.
> 
> Writing a mystery is a bit weird for a fanfiction, because everyone can probably guess who the bad guy is without even starting the story. But have faith! I know my way around a mystery, and perhaps I will yet surprise you. Only one way to find out!
> 
> And yes, I have given in and looked a couple of things up on Wookiepedia since writing Capacitance. But not a lot. I'm a firm believer of Making Shit Up, so the timelines might be a little inaccurate with regards to canon. Oh well!

There's a saying somewhere that Coruscant never sleeps. I don't know who says that, because Coruscant can't exactly sleep if it never _wakes_ \--it's too caught in some weird twilight haze of noise and faceless crowds and bright lights and back-alley shadows. All the artificial daylights make time blend together like it never does on any other planet, and sleeping and waking gets to be about the same way. It's the simulated weather that does it, I think. Everyone goes a little nuts when the sun only comes out if you tell it to.

The point is, Coruscant never sleeps, but I do, so I was not happy to be woken by an alarm at 0600 hours at the crack of artificial dawn, telling me that someone was waiting at my office. I checked my commlink, just to see if I'd forgotten some kind of appointment with this mystery visitor, but there was nothing. No message, no courtesy call. That was an exceptional lack of etiquette, even in the lower levels of Coruscant.

Still, rude business was business. I wasn't so well off I could snub a client out of hand, so I went.

He was waiting in the hallway when I got there, his arms crossed and looking every bit the image of impatience, as if getting me out of bed an hour and a half too early was a horrible inconvenience for _him_ and not for me. He was a young man, a human. A handsome man, by most metrics, with a square jaw and strong nose and clear blue eyes. His feathery brown hair was loose around his slightly tanned face in the careless way that meant he'd put a whole lot of care into it. He probably would have looked more charming if he wasn't so busy scowling at me. As it was, I was too tired to have any opinion of him at all, beyond supremely annoyed.

"About time you showed up," he groused as I unlocked the door.

I ignored him and went into my office, directly past the sign that clearly said my hours started at 0900. Whoever this man thought he was, so long as he had a paying job for me, he could drag me out of bed at dawn, but lines had to be drawn somewhere, and I'd be damned if I'd say a single word before I had my morning tea.

He got the message, but didn't like it--he scowled even harder and more threw than sat himself on the office couch much like a petulant child would. He watched me as I put water in the kettle and pulled mugs from the cupboard beneath my bookshelf, then selected a tin of tea leaves from my bottom desk drawer. A lot of them were running low--I'd have to buy more soon.

I watched my guest back, though I didn't make it as obvious as he did. He was a fidgety sort, always flexing his fingers or tapping his toes, with a gaze that roamed all over my office when it wasn't fixed squarely on me. There was a restless glint in his eyes that gave me the sense he'd stayed up all night instead of getting out of bed early, which only excused some of his horrible decorum.

He was dressed in dark robes that were quite distinctly Jedi in style and his discontent made the Force churn around him--clearly Force-sensitive, and not just a little. A Jedi in profession, if not in temperament. I didn't see a lightsaber on him, but it didn't mean he didn't have one. Those robes had a lot of places to hide a weapon. 

I didn't see why a Jedi would come looking for me--last I heard, they managed their own affairs. But then again, last I heard, Jedi didn't participate in wars either, and that was clearly no longer the case.

A minute or two passed in silence until the water finished boiling and the kettle shut itself off. I measured a sizeable pinch of loose tea leaves--an aromatic Alderaan blend--into an old ceramic strainer and settled it in my mug, then poured the hot water over to steep. Only once this was accomplished did I finally address my incredibly rude guest and ask if he would like a cup for himself.

The Jedi wrinkled his nose. "No, thanks," he said, in such a tone that implied he'd rather kiss a bantha's behind. I was not especially surprised that he would refuse any semblance of civilized hospitality, but was disappointed nonetheless. It would be nice, sometimes, if people could exceed expectations instead of living down to them.

"Suit yourself."

We sat in silence as I waited for my tea--I, out of choice, and he, likely out of stubbornness. Chances were, he found it more palatable to be silent by choice than to speak and be actively ignored. It was about 0630 at that point, which was still a lot earlier than I was ever usually awake, but later enough that I was feeling human again. Outside, I could hear the city start the shift to daytime patterns. Speeder repulsors and foot traffic filtered into the buzz of carbon dioxide scrubbers and humming power generators and the clatter of wind-blown refuse. I listened without thinking about much of anything at all, certainly not about the Jedi sitting across from my desk who would undoubtedly cause many headaches in the next few days. It was peaceful, at least for the moment. After ten years of this thing, you take what you can get.

My tea finished steeping, and I set the ceramic strainer aside on a folded napkin, just so. I took a sip. It was smooth and rich with slightly bitter undertones--a properly brewed cup, as it should be. I gave myself another quiet moment to take in the warm aroma, then set the cup down. It was best not to upset my guest _too_ much. "So. What brings you to my office this early in the morning?"

Now, the Jedi's agitation was palpable, like gale-force wind whipping out into Force despite whatever shielding he had--if he had any to begin with. With such poor control over his emotions, I had no idea how he had ever been Knighted. Maybe standards had declined in the last twenty years.

He sneered at me. "You're Obi-Wan Kenobi."

That was probably supposed to mean something, so I took another sip of my tea and tried to remember if this Jedi was one I ought to know. I didn't have to think very long; I could count the number of Jedi I knew on one hand. The number of Jedi that knew anything about me was even less, and this one wasn't one of them. Most likely, he'd gotten my name off the HoloNet or the sign on my door. Maybe saying people's names like he was accusing them of something was just how he got his laughs in.

"You know, usually when you meet someone it's polite to introduce _yourself,_ not the other person. And now you've gone ahead and introduced me, whereas I cannot do the same for you," I said. "How awkward for us."

The Jedi made a face. "You don't know who I am?"

"I just said as much. This conversation will go a lot faster if you don't repeat everything I say."

The Jedi scowled even more. It was a wonder he didn't have a permanent wrinkle between his eyebrows. He cursed in Huttese under his breath, then said, "You can call me...Rex."

"Sure, 'Rex'," I said. "I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi. Private investigator. How do you do?"

* * *

'Rex' had a blackmail problem. Not one of his own, but of someone he was protecting--a Senator Amidala from Naboo. I, of course, wanted to know why the Jedi were involved with a Senator's protection, to which 'Rex' responded with a snotty, "That's none of your business."

I pressed, as I always did, and he told me it was a matter for the Jedi Order.

This was not the first time a Jedi had pulled rank to try and tell me what I did and did not deserve to know about my own job. It was, however, the most ham-handed and impolite of these attempts I had ever seen. If 'Rex' was somehow acting on behalf of the Order--of which I had significant doubts--he was definitely not garnering my good will towards them, which I already had precious little of to begin with.

I didn't see the point of this charade. Jedi end mission reports, so long as they weren't classified, were public record--it was an important part of Republic transparency. I could and would look it up on my own time. Either 'Rex' didn't know this, or he was determined to waste my time. Neither of these suppositions were flattering.

"Very well," I said. "Let's move on to the blackmail, then. Do you have the message with you?"

'Rex' nodded and pulled out a piece of flimsi. Not surprising. Blackmail letters were often made in physical media since they were harder, though by no means impossible, to trace. "It's the third one we've gotten. This was delivered to me last night, around 2300."

"To you? Not to Senator Amidala?"

'Rex' made a face like he'd swallowed a frog. "We, uh. Check the Senator's mail for things like this. And other hazards."

"That hardly seems like something that would require Jedi attention, but fine," I said. "May I see the letter?"

'Rex' handed it to me, and I turned it carefully between my fingers. It was cream colored with crisp construction and a medium weight--definitely high quality stationery. The actual contents of the letter were less sophisticated: _'Senator Amidala will retract her amendment proposals for Bill 2712a, or her secret will be the least of her worries.'_ Not the typical wording to put the bite on someone, but clear enough.

"When did you first get these letters?"

"About a week and a half ago. They all say basically the same thing."

I hummed to myself. "I notice this letter doesn't actually mention _what_ secret your mystery blackmailer is attempting to reveal. Are you sure this secret even exists?"

"Yes," 'Rex' said.

I set the letter down. "And do you have any idea what it might be?"

"What makes you think I'd tell you if I did?"

I sighed and drummed my mechanical fingers on my desk. The sound usually soothed me, but today was trying my patience in many ways. "It is my understanding that you are attempting to hire me to investigate this blackmail attempt. Usually, these investigations are easier and faster when I don't have to find things you already know."

'Rex' frowned. "You think knowing the blackmail would help you?"

"It could make a difference, but obviously there's no way to know until I actually have some idea of what it is," I said. "Do you know what this secret is or not?"

'Rex' paused for half a second too long before replying, "No."

Great. He was one of _those_ clients. Sometimes I wished my business attracted a more forthright clientele.

I nodded. "Very well. I should warn you, though, that if I investigate this case, there's a very high chance I'll learn this secret of Senator Amidala's."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a fact," I said. "If you ask me to investigate something, you shouldn't be surprised if I do just that. If I learn anything, I won't turn around and blackmail you or the Senator--I'm sworn to confidentiality, so long as it's not something criminal in nature, but if you're uncomfortable trusting me to that extent, then perhaps my services aren't the best option."

"Sworn by what?" 'Rex' asked.

"My honor and my integrity as a professional. You have your Code, I have mine," I replied. "I have a business to run, 'Rex'. Word gets around, and I'll have no clients at all if they hear I'd sell them out for a pretty credit or a few hits in the face."

'Rex' leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. He seemed to think on my words, and whatever he thought, he didn't seem to like it. He didn't leave, though. It was not a resounding show of faith in my abilities or discretion, but it was good enough for now.

"So," I continued, tapping the blackmail letter, "what exactly do you expect me to do with this?"

"Investigate, obviously," 'Rex' said.

"Investigation isn't _magic,_ my dear. I have to know what I'm trying to find. Do you need to know where this came from? Who sent it?"

"I need the blackmail to stop," 'Rex' said, gesturing vaguely to the letter.

I took a long moment to drink more of my tea, then set it down again. "I'm a private investigator, not a bounty hunter."

'Rex' ground his teeth. "That's fine. All I need is a name."

That had me pause long enough to properly appraise 'Rex' once more. He was obviously angry, even without my being able to feel it through the Force. His emotions were barely leashed, roiling like a live thing just beneath his skin, thrashing to break free and hurt someone. It was the furthest thing from Jedi serenity I could imagine. I wondered what 'Rex' would do if I gave him the name he asked for, but I didn't wonder long. It was pretty obvious--he wanted to hunt and _kill_ whoever had threatened Senator Amidala. For some reason, this protection job was _extremely_ personal to 'Rex'.

If this was what the Jedi Order was turning out these days, I had made the right decision in leaving. I would hate to become anything like this man.

Could I really do this? The job itself was straightforward, but I didn't like that 'Rex' was using me as part of his personal manhunt--if I wanted to offer those sorts of services I'd still be collaborating with bounty hunters and probably make a lot more money. I didn't want any part of someone's messy revenge--especially the deadly kind. Even if my heart was as blackened as Honorable Master Jedi's, this was the exact kind of job that could make me an accessory to murder, which was the last thing I needed.

"I can get you your blackmailer's name," I told 'Rex' after some long consideration. "I might even be able to do it fast, if your blackmailer is still on the planet. But when I find them, I'm going to turn them over to the authorities, not you."

 _"What?"_ 'Rex' snarled.

"You might think yourself above the law, Master Jedi, but I am very much not," I said. "I can't find and give you your blackmailer's name, knowing you'll commit murder with it. There's a due process I can't afford to subvert, and if you want my services, neither can you."

"I'm not going to _kill_ them--"

"You obviously are," I said. "You're angry beyond reason over this situation, and if that blackmailer were here in the room with us right now, I have no trouble believing that you could cut them down without a second thought. I have morals, Master Jedi, ones that are worth a lot more than five hundred credits a day plus expenses."

"I _have_ to know who's sending these letters," 'Rex' growled.

"And you would, after they were arrested. That would put an end to their blackmail, wouldn't it? Just like you wanted," I said. "But if you're so committed to your vigilante headhunt, then by all means, go ahead. Find them yourself. There's nothing I can do during my investigation that you can't. I daresay that with your Jedi powers and resources, you could find them even faster than I could." _If_ he were smart enough to know how to use his skills. Since he hadn't managed to find the blackmailer yet, despite having two prior chances to do so, Master Jedi's investigative skills likely left something to be desired. "Or you can take your blackmail to a different private dick, one who doesn't care about the blood that gets spilled on their actions. There's plenty of those, too."

"You're supposed to be the best," 'Rex' said.

I had no idea where 'Rex' had heard such a thing. I certainly wasn't telling anyone that.

"I highly doubt I'm the best. Coruscant is a big city," I told him. "I'm quite good at my job, I won't deny that, but there's plenty of acceptable substitutes if my ethics are a breaking point for you. I can even refer you, if you'd like."

'Rex' fumed over my words, considering his options. While he did that, I went to brew myself a second cup of tea, this time with a piece of crystal sugar at the bottom. By the time my tea was ready and I had retaken my seat at my desk, 'Rex' was still thinking.

It took him an age to respond, but finally, he said, "Fine. Do your investigation. As long as this gets taken care of, you can do whatever you want."

* * *

'Rex' finally departed at 0712, leaving behind the blackmail letter, the letter's envelope, my thousand credit retainer, and a throbbing headache between my temples. He was still agitated when he left, but it would be a snowy day in Coruscant before 'Rex' learned to let go of his agitations.

I wondered if he wasn't exhausted, being so angry all the time. I certainly had been, when I was younger. I had learned better, eventually, so maybe there was hope for 'Rex', but I wouldn't stake any hopes on it. If his Master couldn't train some emotional discipline into him after ten to fifteen years of Padawanship, some part along that learning process was probably irreparably broken.

I put it out of mind. He'd paid me to investigate, not to waste time thinking about how the Jedi had gotten to wherever the hell they were now.

I picked up the envelope. Not for the first time, I thought wistfully on how much easier my life would be if I could simply ask the Force for answers. For a brief time, back when I was still at the Temple, I knew someone who was psychometric--he could get memories from things he touched. If I had that, I could probably get a clear look at the blackmailer's face, if not their intentions as well, but psychometry was unfortunately something inborn, not learned. Not that it mattered. I couldn't use the Force that way anymore--I hadn't been able to for a long time. All I had now were my eyes and hands.

The envelope was soft pastel blue, made of similar, if heavier high-quality stock to the letter, possibly even from the same matching set. The envelope flap had been sealed with self-adhesive, and the jagged edges in the slit top showed it had been opened with something dull--maybe a fork or a screwdriver. Assuming 'Rex' was the one who had opened the top, the envelope had not been tampered with in any way I could discern. I didn't bother with fingerprints. Even if anything had survived transit, I didn't have a database for that kind of thing. If 'Rex' wanted forensics, he should have gone to law enforcement.

I flipped the envelope over. On the back, there was a private courier's stamp in black, with a postmark date from the day before. Speedy delivery, especially in this city. I recognized the stamp's design as coming from a courier service a bit further down the lower levels, perhaps a twenty minute's drive away. I'd used their services before--it was a reputable business, despite their usual clientele. The envelope had a return address, belonging to what was obviously some part of the Senate building, but no mailing address. Annoying but not unusual. Private courier services often only sent a few packages at a time, so giving a courier a verbal mailing address without writing it down on the package itself was common, if frowned upon. The return address was also not strictly required, but couriers were a lot fussier about having one--having undelivered packages hanging around was one of those things that could really get a courier service into hot water.

I tapped the envelope against my chin. Most courier services didn't have package drop boxes--all packages had to be checked over in person before they could be sent out, which meant that most likely, someone at the courier service had face-to-face interaction with the blackmailer or one of their associates. That was as good a place to start as any.

I finished my tea, put on my coat, and left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation begins.

Zweelo's Speedy Courier Services was based out of a not too-deep undercity duracrete building that had been painted an eye-searing fluorescent orange for seemingly no reason at all except to infuriate everyone unfortunate enough to see it. To my understanding, the main reason a rogue painter hadn't redone the facade in defense of all the local passersby was that the owner (Zweelo's great-granddaughter, at this point) would refuse all service unless the building was all the perfect shade of kill-me orange, and Zweelo's Speedy Courier Services was simply too speedy and reliable to shut down for the amount of time it would take to re-paint the building.

I went in.

It was a homey, if serviceable establishment. The floors could use a good mopping, but it was otherwise cleaner than most businesses this far into the undercity. The front end was small, with only about as much space as was strictly needed for package drop-off and the associated documentation--there were three chairs, a single kiosk, and a table set against the wall with a small data terminal and attached label printer. I could see a package flimsiplast wrapping machine behind the counter which looked like it had been bought sometime around the Ruusan Reformation, but appeared to be perfectly functional otherwise. There was a small window between the reception area and the back end of the building--every so often I could spy a courier passing by back there.

From what I could recall, Zweelo's was modestly sized for a private courier service, with about fifty on staff couriers at any given time, enough to cover the number of same-day packages they delivered around the city. They were open at all hours of the day, all days of the week, and though their prices were higher than other courier services, they could always get an urgent package delivered to any point in the closest twenty districts in under four hours. Two, if a courier was already on site.

I went up to the kiosk. A Weequay sat behind the counter, reading a holomag.

"Hello, there," I said.

The Weequay looked up at me. "You need something?"

I pulled out the envelope. "One of your couriers delivered this letter yesterday. I wanted to speak with them."

"What for?"

"I had some questions about who sent it," I said. "I'd be willing to compensate them for their time. Yours, as well."

The Weequay took the envelope and looked at it, front and back. "Oh, yeah. I know this one."

"Really?"

The Weequay nodded and handed it back to me. "Sure. Ain't a lot of people sending letters without packages through here. We do it, obviously, but I don't muchly see the point. Ain't like commlinks don't exist."

"I see. Do you know which courier sent it, then?"

"Yeah, but they ain't on site right now."

"Can you ask if they're willing to talk?" I said. "Over comm or in person would be fine."

The Weequay grunted and typed something into their data terminal. There was a few minutes of silence, then a _ping_ on the data terminal. The Weequay looked back at me. "What'd you say your name was?"

"I didn't, but it's Obi-Wan Kenobi," I said. I showed them my badge. "I'm a private investigator."

The Weequay snorted. "A PI? I didn't even know those were real outside of holodramas." They typed something else into their terminal. "Okay, she'll come back to talk. Can't guarantee she'll tell you nothing, but she'll see what you want. It'll probably be another half hour before she gets here, though."

"Tell her I appreciate it." I flipped the Weequay a twenty credit chip. "Thanks for your help, too."

The Weequay waved me off and went back to reading their holomag.

I took a seat in one of the three chairs. The cushion might as well have been made of duracrete, for how hard it was. I got the feeling not a lot of people used them.

I pulled out my datapad and booted it up. I had some reading of my own to do.

* * *

People tell me investigation must be such an exciting, interesting job. Since their opinion is mostly informed by serials and holodramas, I don't begrudge them their opinion. Investigation _does_ look exciting and interesting from that point of view. I don't really blame the serials, either, because the fact of the matter is if those serials were more accurate, their ratings would be awful, because there would be a lot less seduction and a lot more reading mind-numbingly dry paperwork.

Like, for instance, Bill 2712a that was currently making rounds through the Senate. It was another one of those wartime bills the Senate was so fond of recently, regarding allocation of resources and management of the clone armies.

Which was to say, the millions of people the Republic grew and trained specifically for war, despite the mountains of legislation outlawing full-body cloning, presumably to stop this exact situation. If the Separatists hadn't forced the issue at Geonosis at the time they did, everyone involved in the clone army's creation would have been aggressively prosecuted for an entire litany of gross sentient rights violations. Desperate times and desperate measures, for sure. Didn't mean I liked it.

Maybe it wasn't my place to have an opinion on a war I wasn't involved in, but I couldn't help having a horrible feeling about the entire ordeal. I'd already been through a civil war on one world, and that had been enough to destroy millions of lives even after the conflict resolved. A civil war on the scale of the Republic would be disastrous on an entirely different level, up to and including the end of the Republic itself. All that was left to see was whether the war was the cause or just a symptom.

Restlessly, I flexed my right hand, listening to the motors engage and disengage. Thoughts of war made my neural port itch.

In any case, I had to wade through a lot of the legal speech to find what Senator Amidala's proposed amendments were, of which there were several. The primary ones were amendments to outlaw 'decommissioning' of 'substandard' clones and allocation of funds for honorable discharge and retirement. I was extremely unhappy but not surprised to learn that this was apparently something that had to be added, and that it was controversial to do so. I would be additionally unhappy but not surprised if the Senate could _not_ pass such a thing. From what little I'd heard, the majority of the Senate didn't really consider clones to be _people._ Maybe it's easier to send them to war and read the casualties that way.

It wasn't surprising that someone might try to leverage personal information on Senator Amidala to stop this legislation from passing, and the list of people who would want to do so was unfortunately extensive. However, it _was_ surprising that someone would try _blackmail_ in this case, especially when skipping the blackmail and directly airing Senator Amidala's dirty laundry would cause a big enough stink to completely discredit her and her amendments anyways. Going straight to the scandal would also be a lot less illegal.

I sighed and put the datapad to sleep. My headache had come back in full force, in no small part due to my truncated sleep that morning.

"Are you the detective?"

I looked up towards the voice. It was a Twi'lek girl with orange skin with a speeder bike helmet under her arm. She was maybe seventeen or eighteen, and wearing a blue courier's uniform with a badge that said 'Merna' on it.

I nodded. "Yes, that would be me. Obi-Wan Kenobi. How do you do?"

"Oh, you're polite! I can do that, too! How do you do, Mister Detective?" Merna made a sort of mock curtsy, then paused for a second and said, "You're prettier than I thought you'd be. I didn't think they let detectives have long hair."

Without really thinking, I adjusted the knot of hair at the back of my head. My bun was in the middle of falling apart--I didn't go out in public with my hair loose on principle, but with my rude awakening, I hadn't the time to properly pin it up, either. "Well, when you're a private detective, you can dress however you want, so long as you can still get clients. It's a perk of the job."

"Wow, I guess so. I never thought about that," Merna said. "So what'd you wanna ask, Mr. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Private Detective?"

"Yesterday, you delivered this letter." I held out the envelope in question.

"Hmm," Merna said, looking at it. "Mm, yeah. I remember this one. It was one of the last ones of the night, and we hardly ever have to deliver to the Jedi Temple, you know?"

Oh. Now that was _interesting._

"I can't imagine so. They're very insular people," I said. "I'm frankly surprised they get packages at all."

Merna rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah, they do. Not a ton, but they definitely get them. Usually thank-you packages or courtesy letters for getting involved in whatever Jedi business they do, you know? Most of that stuff gets addressed to the general Jedi Order, so we hand it off to some administrator and they figure out what to do with it, but then there are those,"--she gestured vaguely to the letter--"secret admirers."

"Secret--no, surely you must be joking."

A slow grin crossed Merna's face, every bit the image of a girl who knew she had the juiciest gossip in the cantina. Her amusement practically glittered in the Force. "Why not? The Jedi are handsome and brave and they go out and slay monsters with their lightsabers...what isn't to admire?"

I wondered if Merna knew about the Jedi rules regarding personal oaths like marriages. Maybe it wouldn't have mattered--the forbidden aspect of it was just extra spice.

"This is a love letter?" I asked, holding up the envelope.

"Of course it is! You think just _anybody_ sends letters on flimsi? Using that kind of cardstock?" She rolled her eyes theatrically. "Believe me, detective, that's romance right there. It's not about sending a message, you know? It's about sending a _message._ And you wouldn't even believe who I delivered it to."

"Oh, I couldn't even begin to guess."

Merna leaned in conspiratorially and said, "Knight Skywalker."

I had no idea who that was. Still, I said, "You can't be serious! Knight Skywalker isn't that kind of Jedi!"

"I don't know, but he _is_ handsome, you must admit, and he's such a new Knight, too. Just thinking about it makes me a little jealous," Merna said. "Sending a letter is pretty bold. He didn't look thrilled when I went to his quarters to give it to him. Maybe they've had a falling out."

"It was addressed directly to his quarters?"

"Yeah, I thought that was funny, too. It's not like you can just look up a Jedi's address on the city directory, you know?"

That was a good point. Jedi personnel records were not public--I'd tried to access them before, without much success.

I smiled. "Do you have any idea who this secret admirer might be?"

"Oh, I _wish._ I'd be able to tell that story for years. It'd be like something straight out of a holodrama. Forbidden romance between a Jedi and a civilian. Five stars, ten out of ten, all the intergalactic awards."

"What about the person who gave you the letter? Didn't you see them?"

"He wore a mask and a hood," Merna said. "Like I said, it was all very dramatic."

"It certainly sounds that way. Can you describe the person who gave you the letter at all?"

Merna thought about it a second. "Well, he--I'm pretty sure it was a he, anyways--was humanoid. Taller than me." She gestured to a height that was around my height. "He wore mostly black and had these long gloves. He had a nice voice. A little low, husky. The mask was one of those cheap costume monster masks you can buy on the street, with the tinted pieces for the eyes. It was kind of cute, really."

That was a...surprisingly full description, but considering how invested Merna was in Skywalker's alleged romantic affair, it was reasonable that she'd pay attention to who was giving her the letter.

"That's Skywalker's secret admirer? Very mysterious," I said.

"I thought so, too," Merna said. "Hey, if you learn more about this, can you tell me about it? If Skywalker was having some kind of...forbidden affair with someone, that would be huge. I totally want to know the details."

I grinned. "I'll let you know what I can. You've been a great help, Merna."

"Oh, Merna's just my work name. Call me Lissa," Merna--or perhaps Lissa--said. She pulled out her commlink and gave me her code. "And if you ever need a good courier, let me know. I'm one of the fastest ones in the city." She patted her speeder bike helmet, just to drive the point home.

I gave her my own code. It's never a bad idea to know a reliable courier. "I'll definitely keep it in mind. Here." I gave her a few credit chips--enough to cover a couple hours' worth of work. "For your time. If you learn anything else about Skywalker's romance, let me know. I'd love to hear about it."

She smirked and snapped off a cheeky salute. "Sure, man. All in the name of love."

* * *

There were a lot of thoughts on my mind after that illuminating conversation, not least of which being that Zweelo's couriers were clearly not known for their discretion.

So, Skywalker. A fairly new Knight, getting blackmail letters threatening a Senator directly to his door. It was obvious from the wording of the letter that Senator Amidala was never meant to receive them directly. Why use such a circuitous method of sending a message? Why bother with the blackmail at all when bypassing it would accomplish the obvious goals much more easily?

Perhaps Lissa had the right idea. It wasn't about sending a message, but a _message._

If I were a Jedi receiving letters from an unknown threat, I would be concerned. If I were a _new Knight_ receiving letters from an unknown threat _directly to my door_ , I would be _scared._ Knightings were not public, and neither were temple addresses. To my knowledge, the only way to obtain that information would be to slice into the Jedi personnel archives, itself a difficult task, or to learn it from a Jedi, or to _be_ a Jedi.

Wherever the blackmail had come from, it was clear that it wasn't _just_ about the blackmail. The method of the delivery and the personal knowledge implied by it was a clear threat in of itself, and one that by all means the Jedi ought to be handling internally, if not for the fact that Skywalker--and 'Rex' was almost certainly Skywalker--was likely too much of an idiot to even realize it _was_ a threat. His understanding of the situation began and ended with the threat towards Senator Amidala, with no consideration for any sort of nuance.

Unfortunately, I wasn't in a position where I could hand this case over to the Jedi Council, not least because it would betray Skywalker's confidentiality. A data breach wasn't enough for them to take action, and neither were the threats, especially when they weren't levied against the Knight himself.

Disquieting knowledge in hand, I went to Dex's Diner.

The smell of grease reached me long before I caught sight of it. It was a large squat ground level building, made mostly of riveted durasteel sheeting, with a rounded design that could charitably be considered retro. It was not a beautiful building by any metric, but it was everything it needed to be, including the food inside.

It was 0922, and all I'd had that morning was a stuffed roll and two cups of tea. I could use something to eat.

Dex spotted me the moment I entered. "Kenobi! I haven't seen you in a while! How are you doing?"

"As good as ever, Dex. I'm a working man today."

"Really? Well, good for you!" He gestured to my hair, which was not faring all that well from my drive to the diner. "I see you got up early."

I sighed. "Everyone's bullying me about my hair today. But yes, I got woken up quite abruptly this morning. I didn't have time to eat anything more than a little street food, so I was hoping you could help."

"If there's anything I can help with, it's food," Dex said, clapping his hands on the counter. "I'll get you your regular order, how about that? That'll fill you right up."

"Thank you, dear, that would be lovely. And when you're done, I'd like to see if you can help me with a couple of other problems."

Dex laughed. "It's always problems with you, isn't it, Kenobi? Sure. Let me fry this up for you first, and we'll see where we can go from there."

He went, and I took a seat in my usual corner booth. There were hardly any people in the diner at this hour--most people had already left to start work or would come in later for lunch. I liked the quiet of the in-between hours, which worked well with my flexible work schedule.

The diner wasn't exactly what I'd call particularly civilized, with the excessively greasy food and the worn-out fixtures and the generally grimy populace that frequented the place, but it was very _genuine,_ which was always a novelty in Coruscant. There were no pretenses between Dex and the diner and its patrons--just people talking about their lives and eating delicious food and carving out their own little corner of home in Coruscant. It felt personal the way it was hard to feel personal anywhere else in the city--like anything more than yet another face in a sea of millions of them.

It'd been that way since the first time I met Dexter Jettster ten years back after a case in the Senate district, involving a diplomat's very rude son and some stolen jewels. It was one of my earliest cases after returning to Coruscant, and Dex had pointed me towards the right pawn shop to ask questions, then proceeded to give me a frankly absurd amount of food on account of I 'needed more meat on those bones'.

He might have had a point then, since I was still new to the investigation business and figuring out how to navigate life in downtown Coruscant, and hadn't much in the way of funds at the time. We'd become good friends over food and interesting life stories, which was the one currency in which I was not destitute, and he was now one of my very reliable contacts. He knew a lot about a lot of subjects, and he heard plenty of what went on in this city, catching strings of it here and there from his customers. I rarely visited unless I had work, as I did now, but it was always a treat when I did.

Right about then, I could feel my hair starting to fall down in earnest. With no small amount of annoyance, I reached back and pulled my pins out, and shook my head. My hair rolled down my shoulders and back, and I attempted to twist it up into something more presentable. It was a lot harder with gloves and no mirror, and I didn't have much success.

I was about to give up and just tie it up into a nerf tail when Dex showed up with a tray of fried tubers, a large oily sandwich, and a pair of pickled eggs on the side. He put it down and smiled. "Need help?"

"If your hands are clean, then yes, please," I said. My mechanical hand just didn't have enough fine motor control or haptic feedback to properly pin my hair without my seeing what I was doing.

Dex turned my back towards him, and with an expert hand, he pulled my hair up, twisted it into a tight loop, then used his other two hands to pin it back into a neat bun. I felt it gently to make sure it was secure, and found it to be more than adequate, if fancier than it needed to be.

"How's that? Not too shabby?" he asked.

"Phenomenal, my dear. I always knew you had a way with your hands. Having four must be convenient."

"It helps get things done." Dex took a seat across from me. "So what's the other problem you needed me to take care of?"

"Right, that. I'm trying to find the source of this," I said, taking the envelope out of my bag and handing it to Dex. "I've already checked the courier service that delivered it, but I wanted to know if you had any additional insight."

Dex examined the envelope. "High quality stuff, looks like. Real expensive."

"I got that much, thanks. Do you know where someone might have gotten it? A specialty store or something?" I asked, helping myself to one of the pickled eggs.

"Well, there's no store on Coruscant that'll sell this," Dex said. "This is Naboo special linen weave cardstock. They pretty much only use this stuff for their highest political offices. It's only supposed to be used for official affairs. Royal invites, mostly. They don't export it."

I started on the basket of fried tubers. "Very exclusive, then."

Dex nodded. "Definitely. Not a lot of people with access to this kind of stationery."

"Do you know who on Coruscant might? It was handed off to Zweelo's in person by someone in a mask instead of anyone from the galactic shipping service, so I'm thinking it's someone who's in the city."

Dex hummed. "Well, unless there's a diplomat visiting I don't know about, there's really only two people--the Supreme Chancellor Palpatine and Senator Amidala. Or anyone working for them, I suppose."

That...was good to know, but it certainly wasn't what I wanted to hear. I kind of doubted the Supreme Chancellor was blackmailing a senator, and I _really_ doubted Senator Amidala was blackmailing herself. Neither of them fit the description Lissa had given me, either, which begged the question of why the blackmailer would go such lengths to use such exclusive stationery.

"That makes things complicated," I said as I took the envelope back from Dex. "I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything less, with Jedi involved."

"There's Jedi involved?"

I grimaced. "That was the other thing. This letter was sent directly to a Jedi's address within the Temple, and the Jedi in question was only recently Knighted. I don't think the person who sent the letter was Jedi, so you might see my question."

Dex rubbed his head slowly. "Yeah, that's interesting. There's not a lot of outsiders who can search Temple addresses--I'm pretty sure the Senate doesn't even get that kind of information, except maybe the Supreme Chancellor's office. The main way you'd find an address, without slicing, is if the Jedi in question told you. Of course, once that information's out there, it's out there. You can find the addresses of most Masters on the HoloNet without too much difficulty these days. How recently was your Jedi's Knighting?"

"I haven't had a chance to check. The name's Skywalker, apparently."

Almost immediately, Dex said, "A few months ago, then. Right around when the war started. Anakin's getting letters?"

I paused mid-bite. "Why do you know when Skywalker got promoted?"

"Well, it was hard to miss. Qui-Gon and Anakin and a bunch of other people came in and threw a party over it," Dex said.

That hit me like a face full of ice water.

"Qui-Gon?" My voice sounded very, very far away.

"Master Qui-Gon Jinn," Dex said. "He's got a bit of a reputation in the Temple, as a bit of a rule-breaker, but he's--"

"I know who he is," I snapped. "Why was Master Jinn celebrating Skywalker's promotion?"

"He was Anakin's Master, of course."

That...couldn't be true. There was no way he would--

I stared at Dex, long enough that my gaze unfocused and my neural port started to ache. I squeezed it with my other hand, trying to chase away the feeling, but it wouldn't stop throbbing.

"Kenobi?" Dex asked. "You okay?"

"You mean to tell me," I said slowly, "that Master Jinn, who loudly and publicly swore he would never take a Padawan after his second one Fell, and who humiliated Initiate after Initiate looking for a Master during his tenure, decided he would take on an angry, impulsive, and relentlessly _emotional_ Padawan and _stuck with him_ long enough to raise him into an angry, impulsive, and emotional _Knight?_ "

Anakin Skywalker, the angriest, most _temperamental,_ most uncouth and rude and _immature_ Jedi I had ever met, was apprenticed under _Qui-Gon Jinn._ Nothing about it made sense, and yet--

Dex eyed me carefully. "That's hardly fair. Qui-Gon already took on another Padawan after his second one. I wasn't around to meet them, since it was before I got the diner, but they left after about a year--the Jedi Code was too much for them."

A hysterical laugh slipped my lips. I was gripping my neural port so hard that it was starting to hurt, but I couldn't let go. "Is that what he told you? Is that what he tells everyone?"

"Now, see here, I won't have you slandering Qui-Gon. I know you've got your opinions of the Jedi, but he's a good friend of mine and you don't know what happened with his Padawan--"

"I _was_ that Padawan!"

A deafening silence flooded the diner, and I buried my face in my hands, breathing hard. I could hardly hear anything beyond the rushing in my ears or the static in my mind, and the Force roiled around and through me, turbulent from the emotions spiraling out of me.

"All right," I heard Dex say, a million miles away. "There's nothing to see here. Go back to what you were doing, yeah?"

There was a tug at my arm, and someone was there, pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, Kenobi," Dex's voice said. "Let's get you to one of the private rooms. I'll bring your food."

I let him take me...somewhere. Wherever he took me to, I was somewhere else entirely. Off in the Force, maybe. Drowning in it as it filled my lungs and heart and everything else with raw, unbridled emotion. Not anger--never anger, these days, but something just as caustic. It was like breathing fire.

I don't really know what happened for the five or ten minutes after that, except that when I came back to myself, I was on a cushy chair with my head on the table and everything hurt. The Force was still churning through me like white-water rapids, but it was...manageable. I breathed deeply and bled my emotions out, one breath at a time until the Force settled to a subtle vibration beneath my skin.

Kriff. I felt like a shipwreck, inside and out. A psychic feedback loop. How embarrassing. I hadn't lost control like that in years. I wasn't a Jedi, but they hadn't made all those speeches about serenity and releasing emotions into the Force just to feel superior. Bad things happened to Force-sensitives who couldn't regulate their emotions--I thought I'd gotten over that sort of fit when I stopped feeling anger, but if there was anything that could tip me over the balance, it _would_ be Master Jinn.

When it didn't feel like someone was trying to squeeze my heart directly through my chest anymore, I set my hands down flat on the table and tenuously pushed myself back up to a proper sitting position. My flesh hand was shaking, and my neural port throbbed painfully with my pulse.

Dex was waiting patiently in the seat beside me, his presence as steadfastly reliable and soothing in the Force as it always was. I didn't deserve Dex, sometimes. He was too good for anyone.

"I'm sorry," I said. My voice sounded like a box of scrap. "I didn't mean to cause a scene."

"I didn't realize it was a sore subject," Dex said. "Wouldn't have brought it up if I'd known. You all right now?"

I clasped my hands together, flesh around mechanical. Phrikite-alloy knuckles dug uncomfortably into my palm. "I'll be okay for now. You caught me off guard, is all. Master Jinn is...I didn't expect to hear of him like this. That's no fault of yours; I shouldn't have shouted like that. I just had a...visceral reaction. A Force thing. It's under control now. I don't feel good, but I'm all present at the moment."

"I'll say. Is it true?" Dex asked. "You being Qui-Gon's old Padawan?"

"Of course."

There was a long pause.

"Well," Dex said, "if you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

"It's public record, you know. I'm sure even Master Jinn would write a proper mission report about the time he lost his Padawan."

Dex set a large hand on my back. "I'd like to hear it from you, if you can handle it."

I closed my eyes for a moment to test my emotions, but mostly found myself completely hollowed out. It felt bad, but it meant I wasn't at risk of setting myself off again, so I said, "We had a mission to Melida/Daan."

"The planet with the civil war?"

I nodded. I supposed that, even after all this time, that was all they were really known for. "They're not at war anymore, but they were when we went there. It was awful. When our mission was over, I told him--Master Jinn--that it was our duty as Jedi to help end the fighting. He disagreed and gave me an ultimatum--I could fight the war or I could be a Padawan." I shrugged. "It's pretty obvious what choice I made."

Dex frowned. "Qui-Gon's a good man. He wouldn't do that."

"You wanted to hear it in my words, Dex. Believe me or don't, that's not my problem."

Dex crossed one of his pairs of arms, frowning. I suspected this was just as uncomfortable a conversation for him as it was for me--I certainly wouldn't enjoy learning if one of my friends had done as Master Jinn had. "All right. What happened next?"

"War, obviously. Three and a half years of it," I said. "That's how long it took to end it, as much as you can end centuries of conflict. It cost too much and left irreparable war damages, but it was over."

"And Qui-Gon never went back for you?"

"You know the answer to that. He made his choice, and I made mine. I'm not upset about him sticking to his word for once," I told him. "I can't imagine he was unhappy to see me go. I was, after all, angry and impulsive, and fairly thoroughly mediocre in all other senses. Hardly the shining beacon of talent Xanatos apparently was." I reached for my greasy sandwich and bit into it--it was cold now, but food was food and I didn't waste food on principle after Melida/Daan. I assume it was delicious, but I didn't taste a single bit of it.

Dex squeezed my shoulder reassuringly, though his uncertainty was still palpable in the Force. "I'm real sorry that happened to you, bud. You're allowed to be angry about it, you know."

"I'm not. It wasn't that that upset me. It was the...new Padawan thing. Apparently, when he publicly humiliated me by rejecting me as a Padawan because I was impulsive and full of anger and destined to Fall, he _really_ meant I wasn't impulsive and angry and destined to Fall _enough._ I met Skywalker this morning, and I swear, he's never had a critical thought in his life, not to mention he's a hairsbreadth away from committing murder--if Master Jinn was trying to raise someone who wouldn't fall to the Dark Side, he has done abysmally." I took a drink of water. "I'm bitter, of course, but mostly...disappointed. I thought Master Jinn was better than that. I thought his principles meant more to him."

"He's a good Jedi," Dex said, though not with much enthusiasm.

"Sure, but he wasn't a good Master. I'm glad I left." I took a deep breath. My hand wasn't shaking anymore, which was a good sign of the adrenaline wearing off. "Did he really never tell you my name?"

Dex grimaced. "It never came up."

"And why not? Was my leaving really that painful? Or did he just not care?" I shook my head. "Never mind. You wouldn't know, and it doesn't matter. What goes on in Master Jinn's mind is none of my business. That's all in the past."

"It's not wrong to want closure."

I huffed. "I _have_ closure. I finished my war and I started a new life away from the Jedi, my own life. I'm doing well, I help people, and I sleep whole nights without nightmares. I moved on, Dex. I'm myself for myself, now, and not whoever I need to be for whoever comes along. I didn't need Master Jinn for that."

Dex looked at me for a long moment, as if trying to discern the truth in my words, and seemed to find me satisfactory. He clapped my back and said, "I appreciate you telling me this. You're a strong man, Kenobi."

"Only as strong as I need to be. Only strong enough to keep going."

"Sometimes, that's what strength means," Dex said, sliding out of his chair. "I've left the front unattended for long enough, so I'll head back, but you...where are you planning to go after this?"

"The Senate building, I think. Pay Senator Amidala a visit. I don't have concrete plans after that."

"Take a nap before you head out. You started early, and you look like you need it. I'll pull out the cot and you can get a couple hours of rest in here. I'll make sure you're not disturbed. Sound good?" Dex said.

I wanted to protest, but couldn't, really. I still had the headache from the morning, which my psychic fit hadn't helped, and I still felt brittle and weak in the limbs. I didn't trust myself to drive a speeder in this condition, much less investigate a blackmailing, so I acquiesced.

The cot was hugely oversized, meant for someone more of Dex's shape and stature, but it was more than the floor which made it comfortable enough. I drew the blinds closed and slept.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's more to all of this than just blackmail.

When I reached the Senate building at 1350, I felt like a whole person again. Amazing what a couple hours of sleep and a proper lunch could do.

It was properly sunny now, the light shining brightly through the pollution haze that clung to the city. I had never enjoyed the Senate district or the thin veneer of civility and glorious excess that touched every ostentatious building and overpriced designer store, but I knew the place well enough. I spent a lot of time there for work--Senate and Senate-adjacent folks were unfortunately my main clients. Most other cityfolk couldn't afford a private investigator's rates.

I had a particular distaste for the Senate building. Being there made me feel ill. It wasn't just the principle of it, where they voted on who deserved help and who deserved to die, or all of the sluggish bureaucracy surrounding it, though that didn't help. It was the atmosphere of it, I think. Some kind of psychic residue from so many people, or a few particularly unpleasant people, clinging to every stone and fixture like a thin film of pestilence. If it felt that bad to me, I couldn't imagine how bad it felt for a properly trained Jedi.

I went to the overdecorated reception desk to ask if I could meet Senator Amidala for a few questions, please, and was firmly refused on account of Senator Amidala was somewhere in the Mid-Rim as part of a diplomatic convoy and wasn't expected back for another two days. I was pretty good at convincing people to help me, but even I couldn't convince a ship full of diplomats to teleport to Coruscant at my convenience, so I asked if Senator Organa was available instead. It turned out he was, so an overly verbose protocol droid took me to some kind of parlor room so I could wait for him.

It was a nice parlor. Vaulted high ceilings with crystal lights and real wood panels on the walls with engraved flowers I'd never seen before. Enormous windows with satin curtains looked directly over a small, well-kept garden, and the plush carpets had lazily curling blue designs and probably cost a whole lot to clean. It all felt very pristine--I imagined it didn't get a lot of use, with the sheer number of parlors and conference rooms available in the Senate building.

I didn't have to wait long--only about twenty minutes, which was practically light speed for an unplanned meeting with a busy Senator, though to be fair, the situation between Bail and myself was hardly typical.

He strolled in looking like the epitome of regal decorum, straight-backed with his black hair perfectly groomed as ever. He was dressed in an embroidered black straight-collared blazer in the Alderaan style with a light mantle that settled over his left shoulder and he wore the rich clothes like he was born to do so. With a single gesture, he dismissed the escorting protocol droid, then faced me. There were lines on his face that hadn't been there before, but they did nothing to detract from his aura of dignity and strength, and his dark eyes were just as sharp as they had been the first time I'd met him, eight years ago.

He smiled warmly. "Obi-Wan."

"Bail."

In two long strides, he had gathered me in an embrace that would not have been entirely appropriate had we been in public, and held it longer than would have been polite had we been mere acquaintances. When he let me go, his eyes were glittering.

"Oh, Obi-Wan. Let me look at you." He caressed the sides of my face, running his thumbs along my beard, and gently tilted my face up towards his. "It's been months. I thought you'd forgotten about me."

"I'd never forget you, dear," I said. "I just go where work takes me, even now."

He laughed and tugged me by the sleeve to sit on an excessively soft couch. He procured a bottle from somewhere and poured drinks--something amber colored and fizzy. "I guess it was too much to expect you'd drop by for a simple social visit. I was surprised when they told me you were here--not that I'm unhappy about it. I'm always glad to see you." He looked me up and down as he handed me a stemmed glass. "Your hair looks wonderful, though I still miss when you wore it in braids."

"Yes, well, the hand kind of makes it difficult when you're not there to help."

"There's a simple solution to that," Bail said with an easy smile.

This was a discussion we had almost every time we met nowadays. "Don't tease me, dear. You know we can't. I wouldn't be able to stand it and you'd never forgive yourself, especially with this war going on. Maybe one day."

"Yes. Maybe." He looked off in the distance, wistful for a moment, then flicked his gaze back to me. "I see you still haven't taken my advice to buy a new coat."

"Bail, this coat is tailored. It's the nicest thing I own."

"If you'd let my tailor take your measurements, you could have many more nice things. Including a new coat." Bail wrinkled his nose. "That thing might be tailored, but it is not _that_ blaster-proof. The burns make you look like a thug."

Bail was over-dramatizing things, as always. My coat was dark enough that the burns hardly showed, and anyways the whole point of the coat was to get hit by bolts so _I_ wouldn't. 

"It adds character and it's good for my reputation besides. Everyone likes a private investigator who can take a few hits." I sipped my drink. It was a very light fruit wine, tart and barely alcoholic at all--Bail never served hard drinks this early in the day.

"I prefer my private investigators to _not get shot._ Especially when I'm not there to drag their unconscious body to the medcenter afterwards."

"I believe I made my appreciation quite clear after I recovered," I said. "Then I got this coat, and I have had no problems like that since! Mostly, anyways."

Bail sipped his wine and made a face like he wished it was a lot stronger. "You're going to be the death of me, Obi-Wan."

I patted him on the cheek. "I don't think you'd have it any other way. But moving on to the point of my visit..." I took the now quite-worn envelope out of my bag and held it up. "I'm investigating where this letter came from. The return address is somewhere in the Senate building, and I was hoping you might know where exactly it was."

Obligingly, Bail took the envelope from me. "You know, you didn't have to come in person to ask me this. A comm would have done just as well."

"That's true. I actually meant to speak to Senator Amidala today, but she wasn't available. I was terribly disappointed, but I figured if I was already in this awful building I should treat myself to something nice." I grinned and took another sip of Bail's fruity wine. "And what would be a nicer treat than seeing your lovely face, darling?"

"Flatterer," Bail muttered under his breath. It didn't do much to hide the blush in his cheeks. He handed the envelope back to me. "As for your question, that address is for the Supreme Chancellor's office."

My smile dropped. "I see."

Between the stationery and the address, it seemed like the blackmailer was in Chancellor Palpatine's office or going to a lot of trouble to frame them. That was the kind of trouble I absolutely did not want to deal with.

"You don't look pleased about that," Bail said.

"I'm not. If the Supreme Chancellor is somehow involved in this, I'm not getting paid nearly enough." I didn't know how much I _would_ have to get paid to mess with the single most powerful man in the Republic, but it would probably involve at least one extra zero.

"I...see. If I may ask, why did you need to speak to Senator Amidala?"

"I wanted to ask who might be so upset with her that she needs a Jedi guard," I said. "And maybe also where she keeps her stationery. You're one of Senator Amidala's friends, aren't you? You wouldn't happen to know?"

"Where she keeps her stationery? No, I don't know that, though I assume she would have some in her office, or at her apartment," Bail said. "Also, I don't know where you heard she has a Jedi guard, because she doesn't. She did briefly before the war, when there were some assassination threats against her, but I don't believe she's had direct Jedi protection since."

That was all new to me, though I did not find it a surprise that someone had tried to assassinate Senator Amidala. From what little I knew, she seemed like the sort of person who made a lot of powerful people's lives very difficult. She probably had multiple bounties on her head--the occupational hazard of being a senator who respected sentient rights.

I hummed a bit to myself. "Really? Would that guard have been Anakin Skywalker, by any chance?"

"Yes, actually. And Master Jinn as well," Bail said. "Do you know them?"

"I know _of_ them. I'd be happy to keep it that way," I replied. "That's all I had to ask. I hate to cut this short, Bail, but I know you're busy. As lovely as it's been, I should leave soon."

Bail checked his chrono and frowned, likely coming to the same conclusion. "Yes, I've got another meeting about the new trade regulations coming up soon. It was very good to see you, though. You should visit more often."

"Bail, you know I hate the Senate building. If you really can't get enough of your favorite private dick, how about we get dinner sometime after this case? I can comm you," I said. "And then you can take me to that ridiculously expensive restaurant in the upper levels you keep telling me about."

"The Pinnacle is not 'ridiculously expensive', Obi-Wan. You're just upset about the mandatory dress code."

This was, of course, a blatant lie. I, being a man of common means, did not have nearly enough jewels in my wardrobe nor money in my checking account to even go within five hundred meters of a place like The Pinnacle before they would smell the working class on me and throw me down a ventilation shaft. Even Bail couldn't afford to go more frequently than on very special occasions, though I supposed with how little time we spent together these days, any meeting at all would qualify as that.

I said, "Then it'll be a perfect opportunity for you to dress me up again. I know how much you love that. Maybe this time I'll even let your tailor take my measurements."

Bail let his gaze trawl up and down my body as he finished his drink. "I would like that. How long do you think you'll be working?"

I tilted my hand in a so-so motion. "A few days at least. It seems like every piece of information I find makes the situation less straightforward. And speaking of which, you have Senator Amidala's contact information, right?"

"I do. She's a good friend."

"Well, if you could let her know I'd like to ask some questions, that would be lovely. Or if you can't do that, just let me know when she's back in Coruscant?"

"Of course. I'll see what I can do, Obi-Wan."

I finished my wine and got up. "Excellent. I know it was sudden, but it really was good to see you." I pulled Bail up and into a hug, and if I leaned my face against his shoulder more than was strictly required, no one would tell. "I was worried the Senate had worked you to death, but it seems there's still time to quit. We could elope--Breha wouldn't mind. She could even join us. I have contacts on the Outer Rim and everything. It would be very romantic."

He flicked me in the back of the head. "Don't be silly. Both of us have our responsibilities. You said it yourself. I can hardly quit with the war going on--the people need me too much for that."

Slowly, I pulled away from him. "I know. And I'd probably go spare if I let you spoil me like you keep trying to do. How unfortunate for us." I clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm off. I'll be in touch."

* * *

The next hour found me in one of Coruscant's many libraries. It wasn't strictly necessary to be in a library to research what I was looking for, but it was good to have the resources on hand if I needed it, and it made me feel better to be somewhere less crowded and away from some of the loudest parts of Coruscant's psychic static.

That was one thing I sometimes missed about the Jedi Temple--the quiet. Jedi-in-training learned to shield early on so their thoughts and feelings weren't so loud, but civilians never got that kind of training. In most places, it was more of an irritation than a genuine issue, since people without Force sensitivity couldn't put out much more than a low buzz in the Force, but Coruscant was so irresponsibly dense it more than made up the difference. It made the Force turbulent, and though I loved the visceral feeling of its currents against my skin, it was sometimes a bit much. Especially since the war started, going through it sometimes felt like sandpaper against the inside of my mind, and I didn't have the ability to block it out.

I did some research. The list of people who publicly opposed Senator Amidala's proposed amendments and could therefore benefit from blackmailing her was depressingly long and constituted what felt like at least 40% of the Senate. Closer to 80% if you could read between the lines.

The Supreme Chancellor was one of them. It was clear from Chancellor Palpatine's recent voting history that he believed the clones were wonderfully convenient and useful to the war effort, but were not really people and did not deserve access to the rights afforded to one. It was also clear from his recent speeches that he didn't want people to _know_ he harbored such feelings about the clones, but there really was a limit to how many times he could reasonably cite hardships and budget issues for his reticence before it sounded insincere, and he had passed that point quite a while ago.

Adding on the fact that he apparently had access to Jedi records and addresses, I had to confront the very real possibility that the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic was blackmailing Senator Amidala.

This was not what I signed up for.

It was a slim comfort that there were still major pieces that didn't fit--Skywalker's involvement, the implicit threat against the Jedi, and critically, why blackmail had to be used at all. Did the Chancellor, or whoever the blackmailer actually was, think they would benefit more from having leverage on Senator Amidala than dismissing her out of hand? From what I had read about the senator, she did not seem like someone who would bow to pressure--if literal assassination attempts wouldn't make her stand down, blackmail would probably barely rate on her threat evaluation, assuming she even knew she was being blackmailed, because _Skywalker_ was the one getting the letters.

I pulled the letter out of my bag and took another look at it. 

_'Senator Amidala will retract her amendment proposals for Bill 2712a, or her secret will be the least of her worries.'_

The words stood out in harsh black handwriting, scored deeply into the soft flimsi. The characters were large and written with a peculiar care, styled very similar to the standard HoloNet typeface. There were small ink blotches at the ends of strokes, like the stylus had lingered there a moment too long, from writing too slowly or too carefully, along with a small dusting of stray ink dots across the page that I couldn't explain. It could have been an affectation to circumvent handwriting match analysis, or...it was possible the author had received no formal education, and therefore perhaps had never read a holograph or never learned stylus handwriting and thus didn't realize that certain characters were written differently by hand. 

There was a slight tear along the top edge of the flimsi, and a tiny string of adhesive still clinging to it, pointing to the flimsi coming from a tablet instead of a set of loose sheets, and this sheet not being gently removed from it. With how heavily the author had penned their words and the random ink dots...

I shifted the flimsi to a more oblique angle to the light and saw phantom indents of previous letters embedded on the page. Interesting. Tablets, especially expensive ones like the one this sheet would have come from, came with a piece of cardstock to put between the current page and the next, to prevent impressions and ink bleed from traveling down to future pages, but the blackmailer hadn't known that.

I took a holo of the front and back of the letter for future reference, then took out a graphite pencil stylus and gently ran the flat edge over the entire page.

There, in cream negative on gray relief, were the impressions of two previous letters overlapped over each other. The impressions were too faint and the overlapping too obfuscating to make out the exact content of the two letters, but one appeared to be similar to this one, and the second was clearly a demand to meet at a certain address in the undercity.

Had the blackmailer penned all these letters at the same time? That would imply they had known there would be no response to the earlier letters.

I noted the address and put my things away. The blackmailer wanted to meet Skywalker face to face. I wanted to know why.

* * *

The address took me to Coruscant's lower levels once again. I knew the area, vaguely--it was impossible to know every part of Coruscant, tortuous metropolitan hell that it was, but my job meant I got around enough. It was one of those heavy industry districts with a lot of foundries for durasteel and other useful alloys. To my understanding, the foundries didn't get nearly as much use as they did some hundred years ago due to significant ventilation issues, but the manufacturing plants were still running at a steady clip, churning out parts for Coruscant's structural maintenance or for more ships.

I secured my speeder and made my way in. This deep into Coruscant, the artificial sunlights took on an especially unreal quality. Sluggish, almost, and viscous, like it couldn't quite reach into the corners and shadows--it made the streets feel shrouded in twilight even in what should have been full, if simulated, daylight. There was a light chemical haze from years of constant industry that all the best scrubbers on the planet couldn't completely purge and it clung to the skin and any standing surface like grime. Even the air that didn't have a chemical tang to it had that particular stagnant smell of recycled air that was so ubiquitous in the lower levels. There were people, of course, and plenty of them--workers, law enforcement patrols, peddlers, grifters, racketeers, thugs. They kept their eyes to themselves and their hands on their weapons.

I followed suit, holding my baton loose in my left hand. I had a pocket blaster under my coat as well, but I preferred not to use deadly force if I could help it, and I preferred not to use a blaster unless I meant to use deadly force. Melida/Daan had taught me that much.

Unfortunately, this level of the undercity had been built back when things such as sensible city planning were considered some sort of heretical dream, by designers who thrived on nothing but spite and wasting people's time. It was so nightmarishly labyrinthine that it took me forty minutes to find the building, and even then I nearly went straight past it.

It was not a remarkable piece of architecture. It was a ramshackle thing with about as much charm as a shipping crate, situated in a block of old-style residential buildings, four stories high, with half the durasteel plating stripped off and the other half covered in fluorescent graffiti and patches of heavy oxidation damage. The windows had been boarded shut and the entrance had signs of forced entry. Closed down years ago and never opened again for whatever reason, the hollowed corpse of a building in a graveyard full of them. I supposed that if a blackmailer wanted to meet with someone, it may as well be in a place like this.

A short loop around the building revealed nothing of note besides its state of incredible disrepair. I checked the front door. The lock was broken. I pushed it open and it swung aside with a loud creak, revealing nothing but darkness ahead. Charming.

I took out a glow stick and went in.

Crossing the threshold felt like entering an ancient ruin. There was a sense of stagnation, of a place fallen out of use and out of time. The Force was peculiarly silent, undisturbed by any living thing for what must be years now, and so utterly still that I could barely feel it at all. Even the usually ubiquitous static of Coruscant seemed very far away. A yawning abyss, with only my presence to stir the waters.

I cast my light over the ground. The building had been tiled with pale blue synthresin--a handsome bit of interior design, once upon a time, and a testament to a more prosperous past. Now, the tiles were stained from age and worn and covered in a thick layer of dust and chemical residue. No one would covet them now.

I could only assume that the building had once been residential, but I found no evidence to that fact--scavengers had removed all the furniture and ripped out much of the interior plating, revealing conduits and wires that had themselves been stripped from the foundations. Light fixtures were either broken or stolen a long time ago, and just about anything else of use had been taken, leaving little more than the bare carcass of the building.

What a grim place.

I continued on, further into the building. No matter where I went, it was just as eerily still. It made me wonder who was supposed to be responsible for this place--abandoned buildings rarely stayed abandoned like this. They were supposed to be torn down, rebuilt, or reclaimed, especially in Coruscant where any space was at a premium. It made me suspect the neglect was intentional.

The second floor was desolate and caked with dust--I was starting to regret not wearing a respirator. The steady light of my glow stick passed over endless tiles until--there. A disturbance in the blanket of dust. A footprint. I stood for a long moment, staring at it--them. There was a trail of them, come from a heavy-duty boot and dusted over again, maybe a few months old. Had they come from the blackmailer? I couldn't imagine anyone else it _could_ be.

I breathed deep and let my senses spool out, but it was like listening for an echo where there was none. Only silence, both in my ears and in the Force. Silence and stillness, with none of the currents I could usually feel pulsing through the aether. No signs of any living thing having passed through, no signs of any life now.

I grimaced. The Force was just...off, here. I didn't like it.

What could I do? I continued on, feeling tighter wound than a repulsor coil. The footsteps led me to a modestly sized room with a medical droid. 

Of all things.

I inspected it and found it to be a model probably about as old as I was, one that was rated for minor surgeries. It was deactivated, and had been that way for quite some time, but otherwise seemed to be in good condition. A new power cell could probably get it running again, though I couldn't imagine why anyone would want to. It stood silent and unmoving over a dusty cloth-covered table. I checked under the cloth. An examination table. Clean, or at least there was no blood on it. Small mercies for that.

The whole setup made my skin crawl. Why hadn't anyone taken or disassembled the medical droid? Even an old model like this one was valuable, though without fluids, antiseptics, and bacta, its uses were admittedly limited.

I took a holo of the serial number, then finished my investigation. There were some more footsteps here and there, all from the same set of boots, but nothing else of note. Definitely nothing that could answer my increasing number of questions.

I got out of there. It was giving me the creeps.

* * *

Artificial sunset had begun around the time I got out of that building, which meant it was definitely time to get off this level of the undercity. It took a while to shake off the weird nothing-feeling of the Force from that building, and when the soft buzz of the city's static pressed against my senses how I was used to, I could feel something a bit _off._

Like someone was watching me.

Now, the Force didn't do a lot for me in the way it did things for the Jedi. About a year into the war, whether by my desperate attempts to shut out all the horrific might-be visions and block out everyone else's terror and deaths or by the Force's own will as retribution for my leaving the Jedi, I had lost that ability quite dramatically and traumatically. But I could no less separate myself from the Force than bodily tear out my own heart, and so it had turned inwards, still bleeding and raw, burrowing in my flesh and senses and rooting there to the exclusion of ever touching the greater unifying Force again. I couldn't use the Force for things like telekinesis and any bad feelings I had these days were strictly my own intuition--I probably couldn't even use a lightsaber anymore, if I had one--but I felt the Force keenly as it flowed through and suffused me, as it flowed through everything else in tumultuous currents. The Force's residence within my soul had shortened my vision considerably from the could-be futures and maybe-nows of far-flung words, directly to the razor-sharp here and now, a thing the venerable Master Jinn would probably find a delicious irony.

The point was, I felt the noise of the now more acutely than I ever had, especially when it touched my senses directly. I knew when people were paying attention to me, and I felt it now like a cold claw at the base of my neck, just strong enough to not puncture the skin.

Not hostile, but curious. Confused. I couldn't pinpoint what direction the attention was coming from, but it was steady and unwavering, like a hunter tracking its prey.

The feeling didn't fade, even after I'd returned to my speeder and left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan crosses paths with an interesting stranger.

By the time I reached the upper, more palatable parts of the undercity, it was full dark, though the glitzy lights shining off any standing surface did well to distract from that.

I was tired and hungry, and unsatisfied as I often was at the end of the first day of a confusing case, so I stopped by a small quick-eats restaurant that specialized in noodles and whose owner liked to give me generously sized portions. I was always vaguely miffed by the implications, but food was food, and in most cases good food outweighed my pride.

Overlarge bowl of spicy noodle soup in hand, I settled in a booth and took out my datapad.

If there was one thing Coruscant was good at, it was bureaucracy. Barely anything happened in the city that didn't have at least some amount of a data trail, a boon to the private investigator. Some of my colleagues based on other planets liked to complain I had it easy, with all the neat databases I got to play around with. Of course, I couldn't pay them a million credits to step foot in Coruscant, either--good documentation was hardly enough to make up for everything else in this cesspool of a city.

It was about twelve minutes' work to access Coruscant's Hall of Records database and start searching through the building records history. A few searches pulled up the abstracts of a series of documents relating to the blackmailer's building, including its construction, funding, and a few other bits of information that were very useful for official reasons, but were functionally useless to me. The full text documents weren't available through remote access, but for now, that was fine.

The building was, as I had assumed, formerly a residence. It was a small apartment building with four flats, one on each floor, and didn't seem to be especially valuable even before it fell into its current state. It had changed ownership several times over the course of its two hundred or so years of use, until about fifteen years ago, when they closed it down and evicted all the residents due to some obscure Senate legislation. The building passed into governmental ownership, underwent a few sets of renovation and construction, then...nothing. No proposals for the building's new purpose, no bills of sale to any organizations.

The weird part was that it was still supposed to be receiving funds for upkeep and inspection. That was...clearly not happening. A little more digging revealed that said upkeep and inspection was under the purview of then-Senator Palpatine and had never been transferred to anyone else after his promotion.

So that was great. Yet another line connecting the Supreme Chancellor to this blackmail case, but also the embezzlement was a crime in of itself, which meant regardless of how this case ended, I'd have to make some reports. I wondered how much money the Chancellor was getting from this--probably tens of thousands of credits by now. More, if he'd done this in other places, too.

I made a note of it, then moved on to searching news reports. There had been no burglaries on anyone in the Senate building in the past month, and especially not on Senator Amidala or the Supreme Chancellor. Chances were, the blackmailer was within one of those two offices. No burglary necessary.

I rubbed my temples. So much progress, and it still felt like I had nothing at all. I definitely didn't look forward to Skywalker yelling at me for what I had and hadn't learned. Not that I could even tell him right now--he'd refused to give me his comm code, and I didn't care enough to find it.

It was infuriating. Times like this, I was sorry I couldn't ask the Force to send me some sort of insight.

That's when someone slid into the seat across from me. I glanced up from my datapad to see a Zabrak--a _red_ Zabrak--in a black coat and dark undershirt. Bold black tattoos trailed down his face and arms in intricate patterns, emphasizing his sharp features and the ring of horns around the crown of his head. He had eyes like sunbursts--a corona of red against lurid gold. An artist couldn't have made a more striking individual. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands and staring at me with all the intensity of a high-beam laser.

"Hello, there," I said. "Can I help you?"

"Perhaps you can. I haven't decided yet," the Zabrak said. His voice was low enough to rumble in his chest, so much so it was practically a purr--nearly all texture without tone. It wasn't the voice I'd expected from someone who looked so...harsh.

"Well, in that case, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi."

He stared at me for a long moment like he was trying to pry me open with just the force of his gaze, but there was no sense of recognition in his face or in the Force. Probably for the best. "My name is Maul."

"Maul. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." I took another bite of my noodles. "I don't mean to be rude, but I don't think I've ever seen a red Zabrak before. Is it a rare coloring, or...?"

Maul frowned. "I am from Dathomir."

I'd never heard of Dathomir before, though that didn't mean anything. It was a big galaxy, and I didn't do a lot of traveling. Dathomir was probably an Outer Rim planet that kept to itself.

"Are all Dathomirian Zabraks red?"

"I...no. My brothers are yellow."

"You have brothers, then," I said.

Maul made a face and didn't respond. It seemed like a sore subject.

"Well," I said. "What brings you here, Maul? I'm sure it wasn't just my charming looks."

"What are you reading?"

I was getting the sense that my mystery guest wasn't much of a conversationalist.

"News reports. Nothing very exciting, unfortunately." I swiped through the news feeds again. "Everything seems to be about the war, now."

"You find the war boring?"

"I find the war not exciting," I corrected. "I can't see any way for it to end well for the Republic, and it'll take too many deaths to get there."

"And what do you know of war?"

"I was in one."

Maul's gaze swept over me, sending a prickling feeling all over my skin. It was uncomfortable, being the center of such pinpoint focus, and it took everything in me to not fidget like a youngling getting scolded. "You don't look like a soldier," Maul said.

"I wasn't one. It doesn't mean I wasn't involved." I took a sip of my juice drink. "Are you always this dour? It's impolite to ask about personal information out of the blue like this. We haven't even had dinner together, you know."

"We're having dinner right now," Maul pointed out.

" _I_ am having dinner. I fail to see _you_ eating anything."

Maul's face soured, which only served to highlight the angularity of his face. He wasn't just thin; he was downright gaunt. His jacket wasn't clean, either, and he didn't smell fantastic. I wondered if he was sleeping on the streets or holed up in some abandoned building. Either way, I didn't think he got enough to eat.

"Can you eat noodles?" I asked.

"What?"

"They sell noodles in this restaurant. Are you able to eat them, and if so, which ones would you like?"

Maul bristled. "I don't need your charity."

"It's a six credit bowl of noodles. If you'll continue asking me personal questions, you should at least eat something so I don't feel like you're trying to interrogate me. What do you want?"

Maul didn't take kindly to being fed, but I'm a convincing person when I want to be and I got him a bowl of noodle soup with fish and spices. He stared balefully at the bowl when I brought it back.

"That is not a six credit portion," he said.

"It is when I buy it," I replied, setting it in front of him. "The owner thinks I don't eat enough, and I don't think you do, either. At least try them."

Maul scowled, but he did as he was told and rather mulishly stuffed a forkful of noodles into his mouth. He chewed it slowly with an expression that seemed pleasantly surprised, then took a few more bites. "This is...adequate."

"I'm sure the chef will be pleased to hear it," I said. "So, Maul, what brings you to Coruscant? It's quite a long way from Dathomir."

"I have unfinished business."

"Very dramatic. What kind of unfinished business?"

Maul glared at me over his noodles, which was less intimidating when his mouth was half full. "The kind that you would do well to stay out of, Kenobi."

He growled my name, and I'd be lying if it didn't excite me a bit to hear it. It did occur to me in that moment that Maul might, perhaps, be a legitimately dangerous person. He wasn't physically large--probably only around my size, which I could admit was not considerable--but there was an assuredness to his movements. There was tension in him, like a snare trap ready to noose unwitting prey, and despite the precision and deliberation with which he conducted himself, I could sense an incredible fury within him. It wasn't like the radiating white-hot anger Skywalker had, but something older and deeper and colder. Like scar tissue that went all the way down, extensive beyond all hope of debridement.

I hated to think how that could have happened to him. I didn't presume to understand anger so deep and consuming, but I knew a few things about the paths leading to it, having walked many of them myself. I didn't know the choices he'd made, or what choices had been made for him to send him further than I ever went, and I didn't know what unfinished business his anger was driving him to, but I could make some fairly educated guesses.

Those guesses were kind of concerning, but mostly, they made me sorry.

"I'll stay out of it if it doesn't involve me," I said. "Beyond that, there's not a lot I can promise."

Maul's eyes narrowed over his food. "You are a fool with no self-preservation instinct."

"I see eating hasn't made you any more polite. What makes you say that?"

"Your foolish naivete will only lead to your own demise. One day soon, you'll find a blade in your back and have no one to blame for it but yourself." Maul sneered. "Stay out of my way and at least it won't be mine."

"You are absolutely full of cheerful insights, my dear. Keep talking like that and I might think you care."

Maul paused long enough in eating to give me a positively offended look.

"In any case, I think you're underestimating my ability to stay alive," I told him. "I might take a lot of hits, but I've gotten up every time."

Maul snorted and continued devouring his bowl of noodles. He refused to say anything or look at me for the rest of the meal, though I still felt his attention on me. Still curious. Still confused.

He clearly wanted _something_ from me. I didn't see why he couldn't just out and say it. It'd make both our lives a lot easier.

I finished my meal in silence. I found it, and the company, surprisingly pleasant. Maul's presence in the Force was as severe as he looked at first glance, and there was a core of wild ferocity in him like a towering bonfire, which I found perversely comforting so long as I didn't stray too close. I had no way of knowing if Maul received any of the same comfort from me, but the small thrum of contentedness that settled in him would imply so.

It would be hopelessly naïve to think a small conversation and some food would make much of a difference to him in the long run, but it was never really about that anyways.

* * *

When I finally left the restaurant, Maul followed me out like a determined shadow. His footsteps were utterly silent, like a thief's, or a Jedi's. I wondered if he was Force-sensitive, though if he was, I wasn't sure _what_ exactly he was. I felt none of the cool stability of the Jedi shielding from him, nor the wild radiation of the unbridled Force user.

"If you're going to walk with me, at least stand beside me and not behind me," I told him. "It's easier to talk to you when I don't have to do it over my shoulder."

"More talking? What is it like, to be so in love with the sound of your own voice?" Maul asked.

I smiled back at him. "Perhaps I like the sound of yours."

Maul did not trip, but he did stumble, making an undignified sound.

I caught him by the shoulder and said, "See? Isn't this better? Now we can look at each other while we talk."

Maul snarled and shook me off. "Why in the Sith hells would I want to look at you?"

"I don't know. You seemed pretty intent on it so far. I thought I'd just make it easier. You still haven't told me why you're so interested in me, and if it's not my charming good looks, then I'm afraid I'm at a loss, because I know for a fact I've never met you before--I would have remembered you."

"So sure of that, are you?"

"I told you. I've never seen a red Zabrak before. You're very memorable, Maul."

He scowled, but didn't respond.

I continued, "In any case, is there anywhere you're going? I can walk you there, if you'd like."

"No."

So Maul either had nowhere to stay or was not so enamored of me to let me take him to his home or whatever other location, which was fair enough.

"Well, I have nowhere to be. I guess we'll just walk," I said, starting down the main street. "Will you tell me something about yourself?"

"No."

I sighed. "You're really not making this easy."

"Then work harder."

"Perhaps I will. Come along, dear. It's a lovely night to visit the fountains."

Maul made a disgusted face at me, but followed along as I navigated the neon-shrouded streets of Coruscant. He made an effort to walk beside me, but it seemed like he had some trouble with it--he kept trying to walk a half a step behind me and to the right.

Like a Padawan.

I had never habitually fallen into that step after Melida/Daan, but then I had only been a Padawan for not even a year, and before then I'd had plenty of peers from the crèche. I suspected Maul's upbringing was much more isolated than mine, which, considering how much I...enjoyed my early years, was pretty depressing.

I took a circuitous path towards the park, along main roads and bright streets. I had a vile fondness for the night scene in Coruscant--a live thing unto itself, one that had shed the pretenses of civility and unfolded its viscera in all its artificial and profligate glory. From the streaks of bright chromium speeders to dancers in fluorescent paint to every last exhausted worker trying to bury their sorrows beneath the color and sound, under neon lights everything became brighter, more vivid, more _real_ than anything ever managed in daylights--bringing to reality the hyperawareness of a lucid dream.

I breathed deeply, taking in the poisonous feeling. The Force swelled at night from emotions running high into delirium, a crescendo of noise that elevated the static of daytime into a sharp and terrible song of need and pleasure and pain, a million and one voices merging into one. It was so easy to lose myself in it, to drown in the sound and let loose my soul from my body to become nothing more than an emotion--I had inadvertently done so back on my first ill-fated visit to Coruscant after the war, and again when I returned for good, stronger but still unaware of the kind of beast I'd thrown myself to night after night. I'd been a different person then, still raw and hollow from loss, and desperate to feel the Force's pulse under my skin again after I'd lost my connection to it.

I could have died then, letting the Force tear through me and cast me adrift without even a tether to hold me fast. I'm fairly certain I _did_ die--there are certainly enough gaps in my memory from those early days for it to have happened at least once--but the struggle tempered me, night after night. I've always learned best under pressure, and the monster of Coruscant's undercity built my spirit like a forge built a vibroblade until I knew my name and my self in my very bones--Obi-Wan Kenobi. No more, no less.

I didn't know how Jedi even functioned in Coruscant. Maybe it was all that shielding--they probably weren't stupid enough to let the Force flow through them the way I was all but forced to. Maybe my wounds let me hear the city's screams in a way they never could.

Maul and I passed through street after street, under lights and through crowds. There was a sharpness in his presence, and he seemed to prickle with distaste at Coruscant's nightlife, though I couldn't tell if he felt the Force surge as I did. My further attempts to get him to either tell me about himself or explain what he wanted were quite deftly rebuffed, even once we got to the park sometime around 2130. At that point, I was honestly surprised he was still following me.

It was dark--Coruscant's parks were some of the only places the neon lights and night crowds didn't reach, and it was quieter for it. The swell of the Force was still there, still loud, but duller and as distant as the speeder engines I could hear some ways off. This park in particular had real grass and trees in it--one of the few places on the planet to do so. I sat down on a bench next to the fountains and stretched out my legs. Thirty-five wasn't old, but all the beatings I'd taken over the years were definitely starting to catch up with me.

Maul watched me as I rested, some small amount of disdain curling in him and into the Force. "What are you trying to accomplish, Kenobi?"

"I am resting after a long day." I closed my eyes and listened to the fountains behind me. Hardly a waterfall, but soothing. "You should really try it sometime."

"Not _that,_ you dense imbecile. _This._ Why are you leading me around and trying to talk to me and getting me to eat things?"

I cracked one eye open. Maul's eyes were blazing in the dark with sulfurous light, fixed directly on me. He had a hunter's eyes, I thought. Sharp and deadly. I liked that. "If I recall, you were the one who followed _me_. But since you ask, it's because you approached me," I said. "And you seemed to need it."

"I don't _need_ you or your pity."

"It's not pity, Maul, it's kindness."

"And where would that kindness leave you? You would give yourself up for a killer? Sacrifice your life for a complete stranger?"

"I don't know if you realize this, dear, but talking to someone and buying them dinner is not the equivalent of dying for them," I said. "And perhaps, once in my life, I would have been willing to sacrifice my life for a stranger, but things have changed. I would not, for example, sacrifice my life for you."

Maul's lip curled. "Good. Then you're not a complete idiot."

"I'm so glad to hear you say so. Of course--"

A flicker of warning flashed through my awareness.

I grabbed Maul by the shoulder and jerked him to the ground just as red plasma filled my vision, searing through where Maul's head would have been. In a second, I was crouched over him, my baton ready and electrified.

"Get off of me," Maul growled.

"We're under attack," I said, unfurling my senses to track our assailants down. "Four of them. We're surrounded."

I deflected a second blaster shot with my baton and spotted our attackers. Four humans, all dressed in similar clothes. Part of a gang, perhaps.

"There's no need for this kind of barbarism," I said to them. "Why don't you tell us what you want, and we can resolve this peacefully."

Maul grabbed my collar. "What are you doing?"

"Figuring out what they want, obviously," I hissed.

One of our attackers swung their blaster up over their shoulder. "Aren't you a cute one?" they said. "We just want the Zabrak, pretty-boy."

"What for?" I asked. "Why do you want him?"

"Little Zabrak caused trouble with some of our boys. Gonna show him we don't let nobody get away with that. Give him to us and we won't have to harm a hair on your pretty head."

So some kind of revenge, then. It figured that the stranger who I'd bought dinner for had a bunch of people trying to kill him. That seemed about standard for my luck.

"Do you think you can run?" I asked Maul. I could deflect blaster bolts to buy time, but four blasters was a bit much to handle at once.

"I don't run. I'll fight them."

"Do you have a weapon?"

Maul bared his teeth. "I _am_ a weapon."

How dramatic. "Fine. But there's four of them."

"Four is _nothing._ "

I glanced down at Maul. The red in his eyes had deepened further, making him look crazed. I could feel fury vibrate in his skin and into the Force around him, cold and violent.

He was decided. We'd take the problem head-on.

"I'll take the two on the left. Just wait for your moment." Slowly, I got to my feet, dragging Maul up by the jacket. To the attackers, I said, "I accept, but you'll have to come closer, and you can't shoot him until I give him to you. Otherwise, I won't have any guarantee of your word."

Maul snarled.

The gang exchanged glances with each other, then approached slowly, blasters ready and aimed at Maul. They were large people--larger and taller than both of us, at least. But they didn't have armor, and their weapons were older models. These weren't really professionals, not like bounty hunters were--they were just thugs, likely making their living off of muggings and threatening businesses.

They stopped about four paces away, close enough for point blank range, but far enough for me to not be able to hit them with my baton. Slowly, I pushed Maul forwards, and let him go.

He _screamed,_ and a whirlwind of the Force burst out of him, ripping all the blasters away just as they discharged. Red blaster bolts sang through the air and I launched myself at the man furthest to the left, cracking my baton into his knees.

He went down with a yelp and I flicked my baton back, striking him in the diaphragm and sending him to the ground, gasping.

Beside me, Maul was a whirlwind of violence, clawing eyes and headbutting with his horns, not even caring as he drew blood from himself and his assailants. He bodily tackled one of them, throwing both of them to the ground while Force choking a second person behind him.

The last of the attackers scrambled for one of the fallen blasters and in two swift steps I kicked the weapon away and stunned him with an electrified jab in the neck.

I heard the whack of flesh against flesh, and a sharp _snap._ A desperate scream filled the air.

I turned to see one person unconscious on the ground behind Maul, the other pinned beneath his legs with a bloody face and broken teeth, desperately trying to get away from Maul's relentless assault. Anger whirled around Maul like a thundercloud--so thick and caustic I could hardly breathe.

"Maul," I said. "Get off of him."

Maul smashed his bloody fist into the man's cheek.

I took a step towards him. "Maul, you've already beaten him, you're going to kill him." I reached out to pull him off--

He turned on me, snarling, and a lash of the Force caught me by the throat in a strangling grip.

I did the only thing I could: I struck him with my baton, and with a spark of electricity, Maul crumpled on top of the man I'd stopped him from killing.

I coughed, massaging my neck. Less than a minute had passed, and I was surrounded by bodies.

I staggered my way over to Maul. That emphatically answered whether he was Force-sensitive, though I would have preferred a less violent method for that revelation.

I grabbed Maul by the back of his jacket and hauled him off to the side. The person he'd attacked was whimpering quietly, their face covered in blood from their mouth and broken nose and at least one gouge from one of Maul's horns. One of their arms was bent at a wrong angle, snapped in two. They'd live, but they weren't getting up any time soon. I checked to make sure they could breathe fine, then moved on to Maul.

Overall, Maul looked much better, though two of his horns were bloody, as were his knuckles, which had been torn open from hitting teeth. I dragged him up, and felt something wet--blood. Carefully, I set him down and pulled back his shirt. Just below his ribs on the left side was a blaster shot. It didn't go all the way through, but it went far enough to cause quite a lot of bleeding. If I left him here, he would probably bleed out, to say nothing of what might happen if one of those people we'd knocked out regained consciousness before he did.

What a predicament.

Maul was clearly dangerous and had no qualms about attacking me. The smart thing to do would have been to leave him along with the gang that had attacked us, and law enforcement patrols would find and round all of them up.

But I wasn't about to leave Maul out here to die. He was angry and violent, yes, but he'd been provoked first and despite his brutality, his actions would still fall under self-defense. He hadn't tried to hurt me in the few hours we'd been acquainted, either, so I could still afford him some benefit of the doubt. I could also admit I felt a little responsible since I was the one who had brought us to the park. It wasn't a rational feeling--he likely would have been attacked either way, being the target as he was--but we'd both been attacked and he'd been under no obligation to fight. He had, defending me in the process, so the least I could do was make sure he was safe until the morning.

Decision made, I put my spare bacta patch on his blaster wound and carried him out of the park.

* * *

I, like the overwhelming majority of people in Coruscant, lived in an apartment in the undercity. For anyone with modest means, as I was, there was always the critical choice of safety versus comfort, and I had opted for the former with a studio apartment in one of the more reputable levels that was approximately the size of a shoebox. It had the essentials and little else--a fresher with decent water pressure, a cramped kitchen, a dining table, a couch, some small personal effects, a tiny closet, and a wall bed to help save some floor space, for a total size of approximately what the common area back in Master Jinn's quarters had been. I didn't mind it; I always felt safer in small spaces, but I could admit it was austere, even for me. I didn't spend much time in my apartment anyways.

It was not especially difficult to take Maul to my apartment. I hadn't been very far away when I stopped for dinner, and Maul was surprisingly easy to carry. I wondered about that until I laid him out on the floor and stripped off his shirt and jacket to get a better look at his wound and found out his gauntness did not end with his face.

He wasn't exactly _emaciated,_ but he was definitely _thin._ I didn't understand how he could be as strong a fighter as he was, with the apparently small muscle mass he carried. Maybe that was a Force thing, though from my understanding of the Force, using it to constantly supplement physical processes was not...a good idea.

I got out my medical kit and started patching Maul up, starting from the blaster wound. It was slow going, not least because I kept getting distracted by the frankly alarming number of scars he had. I thought I had quite the assortment of scars from the fights I got into, but it seemed Maul did nothing else _but_ fight--he'd been wounded by everything from claws to vibroblades to blasters to ropes to teeth. It was clear he'd been tortured at length, at least once. Suddenly, his violence and anger made a whole lot more sense.

The worst of it was a thick knot of burned scar tissue right over his heart--a lightsaber wound, with a matching exit scar on his back.

At some point, Maul had been stabbed through the heart with a lightsaber and survived. If the blade had been aimed just a little more to the right, it would have severed the spine. That, in addition to the heart, probably would have killed him properly. It probably would have been more merciful.

The image unfolded before me, of Bandomeer and being captured by pirates and auctioned off like chattel, of Xanatos's cruel eyes and crueler smile as he taunted Master Jinn and watched his men fasten a high explosive around my neck. It could have happened to anyone--it could have happened to Maul, except he wouldn't have had a Master Jinn to get him out. And what would happen next? Force-sensitive younglings, given the right encouragement, became fantastic pit fighters, as disgusting as the thought was. Would someone like Xanatos have bought Maul and thrown him into arena fights against people and beasts, then punished him if and when he fell? And finally, when Maul had outlived his usefulness, thrust a blazing red lightsaber through his heart without even a second thought? Discarded like so much trash.

There were a thousand different narratives to explain the map of scars carved into Maul's body, and every single possibility made me feel sick. He didn't deserve that--nobody did--and there was nothing I could do except put bacta on his wounds and hope he didn't murder me when he woke up.

Once I got Maul mostly clean and patched up, I laid him out on my bed. He was breathing deeply now, having at some point slipped from stunner-induced unconsciousness to natural sleep. His vitals seemed to be healthy and steady for now, and the Force was calm around him, or as calm as it ever would be, for Maul.

I pulled my hair down and changed out of work clothes, then went to pour myself half a glass of brandy. Even though the evidence showed Maul would recover fine, I wasn't sleeping until I knew he would wake up safely. I'd had enough experience to know that electric stunners weren't harmless.

I sat at the dining table with my drink and scrolled through messages on my datapad. A lot of it was my colleagues on other planets complaining about how the war was affecting their business--the breaking of communications and transport lines to now-Separatist worlds had made a mess of the networks those of us in the investigation business liked to use, and most of them didn't have the luxury I did of having nearly all my cases self-contained on one world, much less the fifty or so square kilometers almost all of my cases took place in. Other than that, there were some pieces of news about local politics and faction wars and new trade deals--the kind of important stuff that was unfortunately not very interesting to read. Glancing over at Maul's unconscious form, I sent off a message to one of my colleagues primarily working on the Outer Rim, asking if she knew anything about Dathomir.

I got an automated away message in response, telling me she was busy, in hyperspace, or sleeping, so I went back to my messages. The rest was junk, except for a message from Jedha telling me that I had better still be keeping up with practice or someone would drop by Coruscant and drag me back to the Temple of the Kyber to redo my training. This was, of course, silly, since I could hardly redo training that never happened. In the year I had spent at the Temple, they'd taught me about their Force worship--teachings I still kept to now--and how to regulate the Force in the peculiar way it had twined in me, _after,_ but that wasn't training so much as guidance. Even at the time, both they and I had known I'd never become a Guardian. The Force was an important part of me and my life, but I couldn't serve it--I'd left that possibility behind a long time ago.

The message had a holo attached, of the older Guardians preparing a festival for the newly appointed ones. Off on the side I spotted Chirrut, deep in conversation with one of the new acolytes. Not far from him was Baze, carrying what looked like two very large plates full of food. I had fond memories of both of them--they were some of the few people around my age at the time, and Chirrut had taught me about using a staff and baton, while Baze had helped me prepare for my prosthetic surgery, a process that had involved a lower forearm amputation because the original wrist amputation from Melida/Daan had been too old and damaged for neural uplinking. They, along with the other acolytes at the temple had gone a long way to easing the aching hollow where my connection to the Force had once been. They looked well, and so much older than when I'd seen them last.

That shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did. It had been...sixteen years since I left Jedha, and time passed for them just as much as it passed for me. I wondered if they'd even recognize me anymore--I'd changed so much since my teenager years, in ways that a few back-and-forth messages every few months couldn't capture.

A little more broken. A lot more solid. A lot more me than I'd ever been in my life, and all the good and bad that came with it.

I replied with a holo of my own and a message reassuring them that I was still taking care of myself and one day I'd visit again, but not now. It was the same reassurance I'd sent ever since I returned to Coruscant. If I kept it up, someone would probably get sick of it and actually come grab me. I hadn't yet decided if I would like that.

At that point, my glass was empty. I pushed my seat out and went to pour a new one.

I fell into a rotation of reading, sipping brandy, and listening to Coruscant's muffled nighttime noise. For a little while, nothing existed outside of my tiny apartment--not any blackmailers, not any corrupt politicians, and certainly not any Jedi. The Force coalesced around me, trailing over my skin like a physical touch that held me gently in this moment outside time. Slowly, my mind settled and stilled, sinking into the near-trance between dreaming and waking. 

For a time, there was peace.

When Maul finally awoke, I felt it in the Force before any of my other senses, a thin ripple of awareness that shattered my dreamlike state. I opened my eyes, unsure of when I'd closed them, and checked my chrono. 0205.

Reluctantly, I shook off my mental haze and stood from the floor, which I had at some unknown point sat down on. I felt half a second out of sync with my body, and it took a few moments to settle back into my skin and bones, then a few more to navigate myself to Maul's side.

"Maul." My voice was low and resonated with a touch of the Force. "Are you awake?"

Maul groaned and slowly opened his eyes. Nearly all the red had gone out of them, leaving only pale gold. He blinked a few times before finally focusing his gaze on me, and his expression folded into confusion.

"You're in my apartment," I said, pulling over a storage box to sit on. "You tried to Force choke me, so I had to knock you out. You got hit with a blaster bolt, among other things, so I brought you back here and cleaned up your wounds. You've been asleep for about four hours."

Slowly, Maul let his gaze slip from me to the room, barely moving as he did so. "Your apartment looks like shit," he said.

"I don't know if you noticed, but I'm not a rich man."

"I've been in rotting holes in the ground nicer than this place."

"Then I'm sorry my apartment doesn't reach your lofty standards. How are you feeling?"

Maul made an utterly inhuman growl from the back of his throat--maybe that was a thing the Zabrak voicebox was equipped for. As charming as it was, it didn't actually answer my question.

"Maul, you have to use your words."

He glared at me. "Why didn't you leave me there?"

What a ridiculous question. "You were injured. It would be quite discourteous to buy you dinner and have a pleasant nighttime stroll with you just to leave you to bleed out on the sidewalk."

A wave of disgust rolled through Maul. "I shouldn't have gotten injured at all. You should have left me."

"I'm sorry? Why in the world would I do that?"

"A blaster wouldn't have killed me."

"You don't know that. You were shot in the abdomen. There was a lot of blood," I said.

Maul bared his teeth at me. "If I was weak enough to be killed by a blaster, then I deserved to die."

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that Maul had had a very different upbringing than I did. Maybe to him, that was just how life went--you survived by your own mettle or not at all. It was possible no one had ever taken pains to ensure he was healthy just for his own sake. Whoever had put all those wounds on him certainly hadn't done so for his continued well-being.

"Okay," I said. "Maybe you did or you didn't. I won't argue that. But consider for a second that I brought you back because _I_ wanted to."

"I tried to kill you."

"I'm willing to believe you were not entirely in control of yourself when you tried to strangle me," I said. "It's not the first time a friend has tried to kill me."

Maul's eyes narrowed. "I'm not your friend."

"You've gotten blood on my bedsheets," I said. "If that doesn't count for at least some level of friendship, then I've been spending time around all the wrong people."

Maul, thankfully, did not make the obvious retort, instead settling back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. Anger thrummed just beneath the skin, but overall, I felt an incredible...uncertainty in him.

There was a ripple in the Force, a current from Maul that snaked its way to me and pressed firmly against my mind. Involuntarily, I shuddered at the direct touch. Maul stared intently at me, running cold metaphysical fingers along my psyche, looking for something, though I didn't know what.

I allowed it for about ten seconds before letting the probe pass through and away from me. Maul blinked, then met my gaze.

"What did you just do?"

"It's not very polite to examine someone's mind without asking," I said. "I realize we've firmly established you don't have much in the way of manners, but can we please make a minimal effort?"

"That wasn't shielding," Maul pressed. "I know how Jedi shielding works."

"I'm not a Jedi."

He turned his piercing gaze on me.

"I was one," I offered. "Many years ago. But I wasn't one for long; my Padawanship lasted less than a year."

Maul's brows drew together. "Your Master abandoned you?"

"I left."

Maul's gaze lingered on me. A swirl of emotions rolled off of him into the Force, so erratically that I couldn't discern what was what. Then it went silent, as if a curtain had dropped over it, and Maul turned away.

"I...had a Master, once," Maul said, his voice rumbling in his throat. "I was supposed to become his greatest achievement. His legacy. I was loyal and powerful, but he gave me a final task and I was unable to complete it." He pressed his hand over the scar over his heart, running his thumb up and down against his sternum. "I was weak, and my Master cast me aside."

"Does he know you're still alive?"

"If he did, he would have killed me."

There really wasn't anything to say in response to that. I had no love for Master Jinn, but I couldn't imagine him ever actively trying to kill me. Forgetting about me or leaving me for dead, perhaps, but taking his blade to my heart directly? Even if I had taken him at his word and turned my blade on him on that last day on Melida/Daan, I didn't think he would have struck me down so heartlessly.

But then, Master Jinn was hardly the same as whoever Maul's Master was. A thin comfort, considering how much Maul had suffered at his Master's hand.

"Kenobi," Maul said.

"Yes?"

"What were they like? Your Jedi Master?"

I threaded my fingers together and wondered why he wanted to know. Even from our short acquaintanceship, I could tell he had no love for the Jedi, much less any mystery Master that had taught me so long ago.

But the answer crystallized easily in my mind--it wasn't about Master Jinn. It was about me. Poor Kenobi, who left behind everything he ever knew, who threw his lot in with vagrants and miscreants because he had nothing else to give and no one else to give it to. Foolish Kenobi, who lets killers into his sad apartment and uncovers governmental conspiracies for five hundred credits a day.

And maybe, just maybe, it was about him, too. Maul and his cruel Master. Maul and the scars of his training, or the trials he'd been through.

I said, "My Master was not uncaring. He was compassionate for many things. Stray birds, tookas, plants. He gave his love freely to anything and anyone...except me. He never wanted me. I was foist upon him and he took me on because I offered to die for him. He only ever noticed me when I fell short, and he found my skills and my temperament wanting, and often told me so."

"Then perhaps our Masters were not so different. Is that why you left?"

I shook my head. "That was something else entirely. I would have taken the treatment, if I'd stayed. I was desperate--he was my last chance at being a Jedi, which at that stage in my life was the only thing I knew how to be. I'd have endured anything, even if it meant trying to please a man who hardly ever looked at me. I'd have loved him, as any Padawan loves their Master, and been loyal to his very end. I would have given everything and broken myself for him, and it wouldn't matter, because I could never be anything but a massive disappointment to him--I see that clearly enough now."

"What happened?"

I breathed deeply and allowed my emotions to settle once again. "It seems he took on another Padawan after me. Someone more angry and impulsive than I ever was, all those things he rejected me for. I have no idea why, but he _wanted_ it, and I suppose that makes all the difference." I sighed. "When my Master first rejected me, he said I was destined to Fall to the Dark Side. Perhaps that's why he didn't even try to argue when I left."

Maul scoffed. "You're not Dark. I would have felt it. But why not? Where is your anger?"

"I had it, a long time ago, but it was exhausting and did nothing but hurt me. So I stopped."

Disgust crossed Maul's face. "Your Master abandoned you, and you _forgave_ him?"

"I never said I forgave him. I simply don't care about him. We shared one year, a long time ago. It was important then, but it doesn't mean that much to me anymore. It's just something that happened."

"You don't desire revenge?" Maul asked, turning his gold-and-red eyes back towards me.

"What for? I have nothing to prove."

"You have _everything_ to prove. Prove you're more powerful than he is. Make him see his mistake in turning you away," Maul growled. "Destroy his life and his plans and make sure he knows it was _you_ who brought about his downfall."

Maul's anger cut loose around him like a blazing firestorm, violent and terrible. It swirled out from him, catching me in its forcefulness, searing me.

I took a deep breath and grounded myself, then let Maul's fury pass through me--flowing through without touching me. I gripped Maul's arm. "Maul. Calm yourself."

He snarled and tried to pull away from my grip, but my mechanical hand held fast on him.

I threaded the Force into my voice with all the strength I could muster. "Maul, you will _control yourself._ "

Maul's anger buckled under my command, then receded back into himself. I could no more stop the sun coming up in the morning than stop Maul from being angry, but he could and did chain his anger tightly, step by step. His gaze whirled to me, blazing red.

"How are you doing this?" he asked, voice taut. 

"The Force does not work for me the same way it works for you," I said. "Are you going to control yourself now, or do I have to have to put a Force suppressing cuff on you?"

He turned away, almost petulant, but kept his volatile emotions safely beneath the skin.

"Good." I let him go. "Maul, I don't expect you to understand, but I don't _want_ revenge. I don't care about my old Master. Chances are, he's completely forgotten about me, and I'd be happy to do the same. I'm not about to let him rule my life again after all this time."

"You could make him care about you."

"I could, but I can't make him love me," I said. "And I can accept there's nothing I could do to make that happen. But it doesn't matter now, because I don't want it anymore. We had our chance, and now it's gone. I've let it go. I hope one day you'll be able to see the same about whatever unfinished business rules your life and let go of that anger before it breaks you."

"That is because you are weak."

"I'm sorry you see it that way." I glanced at my chrono and grimaced. "In any case, Maul, it is late and I still have work tomorrow. I'll let you sleep on the bed, since you're already so comfortable."

"How magnanimous of you."

I gestured to the fresher door. "The fresher is right over there if you need it. If you wake up before I do, please take a shower--you smell horrible."

"And you're calling _me_ the rude one?"

I smiled. "There's also a change of clothes by the door--I already put your shirt and coat in the washer, but frankly it'll take a lot more than a wash to get the grime out. My clothes should fit, since we're close to the same size. I'll go get you another blanket for if you get cold. Do you need anything else?"

Maul scowled. "No."

"Wonderful." I pulled a blanket out of the closet and threw it at Maul. "You can sort that out. I'll be off to sleep myself. I dare say I'm exhausted. Good night, Maul."

There was a long silence while I went to turn the lights out and situate myself on the couch. I could feel the exhaustion deep in my bones, and the mental fog of having stayed up much too long. I pulled my own blanket up and curled up tight, and just before I drifted off, I heard Maul's voice.

"...Good night, Kenobi."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 of the investigation brings some elucidating insights about Skywalker.

That night, I dreamt vividly.

I was hunting. The Force thrummed beneath my skin as I entered the palace, easily tricking the guards into standing aside, weak-willed as they were. If they somehow survived tonight's slaughter, they would not remember me.

The Force gathered around me like a mantle of fire, itself snarling and volatile and powerful enough to destroy me, but I chained it in my iron grip until it _heeled._ My blood sang with its power and I descended through the palace, tracking a beacon of Light as it approached me.

There was no need to search for my prey--it knew me now, and would seek me out, now that it felt my overwhelming power in the Force. That was the weakness of the Jedi--always throwing themselves into traps in the name of an honorable death.

There would be no honor tonight.

I waited patiently in the palace reactor core, perfectly still despite the energy pulsing through me. I was the eye of the storm, calm and controlled in a whirlwind of potential destruction. It didn't take long for the Jedi to appear.

He stopped in front of me, haggard beard and long hair and disgusting robes and mountainous size. Master Qui-Gon Jinn. There was recognition in his eyes, but there was no fear, not yet. His gaze was cold and uncaring--dismissive as he had been the first time he'd rejected me. His complacency made the Force roar within me, but I put my foot on its neck and channeled the anger to stoke the flames of my own power. Master Jinn could dismiss me all he liked. He would regret it soon enough.

I activated my lightstaff. It ignited in a burst of blood red.

Master Jinn settled in an Ataru salute, as if this were something so pedestrian as a Jedi duel.

We clashed as one, a whirlwind of red against green. He was strong, of course, but I had the full power of the Force and he had only his precious Light. My lightstaff danced between my hands, a storm of twin blades that shaved away his defenses one by one.

Master Jinn was predictable now. I knew his style and his mind--it was disgustingly easy to lure him back through the reactor, past the ray shields into the main shaft. I could feel the fear in him now, the slow insidious realization that he would not make it out of this encounter alive.

My blade crashed down against his, and I bore down with all the Force within me, hard enough to score a burn on the right side of his neck right before he could throw me back. He feinted, only to catch my second blade, and a second burn on the left side of his neck. His throat would be next.

Force screaming with hatred in my veins, I struck. He shifted his stance, caught my blade with his own and--

Instead of throwing my blade back, it pulled me _forwards._ For a critical moment, I lost my footing. As if I were another person entirely, I watched helplessly as Master Jinn disengaged and struck, not with his favored Ataru, but the pinpoint precision of Makashi.

I saw the blade sink through my chest before I felt it. We stood there, locked with his lightsaber through me for an endless three seconds. My lightstaff fell from my hands in a clatter that echoed throughout the entire chamber.

I...had failed. Against a worthless, _weak_ Jedi, I had failed.

Master Jinn disengaged his blade, and I staggered back, feeling my blood spill through my robes--he had struck my heart. My gaze reached up to his, and there was nothing in his expression.

Nothing but pity.

With a flick of his wrist, the Force crested and flung me back over the edge of the reactor shaft. Uselessly, I reached out to try and grab--something--but there was nothing to catch me. Not the Force. Not my Master. Certainly not the Jedi Qui-Gon Jinn.

I fell.

* * *

The first thing I was aware of, when I awoke, was that I couldn't feel my body.

The second thing I was aware of was a faraway voice. A beautiful voice, low and textured so that I felt it more than heard it. I couldn't tell what any of the words were, but I could sense the intention in the Force--a summons. It was asking me to return somewhere.

The third thing I was aware of was a hand against my chest. It was a warm and steady pressure, faraway at first until my awareness slipped back into sync with my physical form.

The fourth thing I was aware of was my commlink going off.

I opened my eyes slowly to the sight of a red tattooed face and gold eyes.

"Maul?" I slurred.

"So you are alive," Maul said. He pulled his hands away from my chest. "I was starting to have my doubts."

With some difficulty, I pushed myself up to a sitting position. "I beg your pardon?"

"Something exceedingly peculiar occurred with you and the Force. I'm not sure what. You weren't breathing."

Oh, that made sense. I flexed my flesh hand slowly, grounding myself properly. "I wasn't in my body, that's all."

Maul's brows rose. "Oh, is that all?"

I shrugged. "It happens sometimes if I lose control. I had a strange dream about my Master--that might have done it." I glanced at Maul, whose brows were drawn together. "I'd have found my way back eventually. You didn't have to wake me, though I appreciate the concern."

Maul rolled his eyes. "Don't misinterpret me. I woke you because your commlink has been going off for fifteen minutes now. If your friends always comm you at this hour, I'm not surprised you're trying to kill each other." He shoved my commlink into my hands. "Talk to your idiot friend. I'm taking a shower."

With that, Maul swept past the couch and into the fresher, taking my change of clothes with him.

My commlink beeped again in the 'urgent' pattern. I didn't recognize the comm code, but answered it anyways.

"Kenobi speaking," I said, activating the holodisk. I didn't bother transmitting my own holo--I wasn't presentable for that.

Anakin Skywalker in his Jedi robes appeared in blue miniature. _"About time you answered. It only took seven tries."_

"Knight Skywalker, it is"--I glanced at the wall chrono--"0540. Please explain to me why you thought it was necessary to comm at this hour."

Skywalker made a sour face. _"Sk-Skywalker? Who are you talking about? My name's Rex, remember?"_

"Skywalker, I have been investigating your case for a full day. Did you really think I wouldn't find out your real name? Tell me why you commed _right now_ or I am hanging up and going back to sleep."

Skywalker scowled at me, the scowl apparently being his default expression. _"I got another letter. About Padmé."_

"I didn't realize you were on first-name terms with Senator Amidala."

Panic crossed Skywalker's face. Clearly, he wasn't much of a Sabacc player, and probably never would be. _"Um. Senator Amidala's very friendly, that's all."_

It was way too early in the morning to deal with this.

"Fine. Sure. What did the letter say?"

 _"Same as the others, except this one says it's my last chance,"_ Skywalker replied, waving around an envelope that looked very similar to the one I had in my bag. _"So I need to know everything you've found out. Right now."_

"Well, I'll tell you what I can," I said. "First, do you know where Senator Amidala keeps her stationery?"

_"Wh-what?"_

"It's a simple question, Skywalker. Yes or no."

_"She keeps it in her living room in her apartment. Why are you asking?"_

Okay. I hadn't actually expected him to answer that one. The fact that he _could,_ especially when Bail couldn't, meant Skywalker was absolutely more involved with Senator Amidala than he wanted to let on. Maybe Lissa's wild theories about an illicit romance weren't so wild after all.

"Right, well. Your blackmailer appears to either be someone with access to Senator Amidala's apartment or someone in the Supreme Chancellor's office."

 _"That's impossible!"_ Skywalker shouted. _"The Chancellor is one of my closest friends, he would never--"_

"I literally just said, 'someone in his office', not necessarily the Chancellor himself. Why are you even such close friends with so many politicians? Isn't that a conflict of interest?"

Skywalker's face changed color so drastically I could see it in the hologram. _"Keep your nose out of my business. I don't tell you how to manage your personal affairs."_

"I'm not the one who made binding oaths to the Jedi Order about maintaining neutrality and impartiality in all matters," I said. "But fine. Your Master's the one who should have taught you about that anyways, though I suspect Master Jinn has been particularly remiss in those specific lessons--"

_"Don't badmouth my Master! He's honorable and brave and the best Master any Padawan could ever have!"_

I rolled my eyes. I wondered, if I had been Master Jinn's Padawan all the way to Knighthood, would I have this same knee-jerk devotion? I hoped not--I liked to think I was more objective, even about people I loved. "I was simply commenting on your Master's well-known disdain for rules and regulations. Moving on, your blackmail letters were written on extremely exclusive Naboo stationery, which as far as I am aware, only the Supreme Chancellor and your Senator have access to.

"There have been no break-ins at the Senate, especially not to those offices, which means whoever it is probably already has access by working there, or since Senator Amidala keeps her stationery in her apartment, someone who had access there. Since she's a senator, it's safe to assume she lives at 500 Republica, which I recall has very good security." I reached over for my datapad and ran a quick search. "There's no recent reports of burglary there, either, but by the nature of the building it's easy to gain access to an apartment so long as you know the passcode."

Skywalker crossed his arms. _"The guards would have seen anyone who entered her apartment."_

"Then I can go talk to them at a more palatable hour," I said. "That being said, I have other evidence that points to involvement by the Supreme Chancellor's office, though nothing concrete enough to share at this point."

_"I'm telling you, Chancellor Palpatine would never do something like this. He's been my friend, and Padmé's friend, for over ten years. He helped her get her position in the Senate after he became Chancellor."_

More avenues for corruption, then. Lovely. My three hours of rudely interrupted sleep were pounding between my temples, and Skywalker was only making it worse.

"Skywalker, I realize this might be difficult for you to hear, but people's actions are not _morally right_ in direct proportion to how much _you like them._ Your friend the Supreme Chancellor has incredibly high incentive to suppress the bills that Senator Amidala is putting through, because he clearly supports the war and the suppression of individual clone rights."

_"That's not true! Haven't you heard his speeches? He's doing everything he can for them!"_

"Have _you_ looked at his voting history? I won't do your homework for you, Knight Skywalker, but maybe you should take ten seconds to develop a single critical thought in your head and examine the people around you a bit more closely. I guarantee that right now, not all of them have your best interests at heart, because _someone_ sold out your personal address, and chances are, it's someone close to you."

Skywalker's expression turned thunderous. _"I am paying you to do an investigation, not insult me and all of my friends!"_

"Before 0900, you are paying me for my information, not my politeness. I would be happy to discuss the results of my investigation with you in a more civilized manner later, after I have both properly slept and eaten. My office at noon would be acceptable."

_"You can't make it any earlier?"_

"No, I cannot. I am not a Jedi, and I do not subsist on a diet of air and the Force. Should I expect to see you at noon?"

Skywalker opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. _"Fine,"_ he said after a while, unhappy about it. _"Your office. Noon. You'd better have something to show for it."_

"Unlike you, I am competent at my job. Now if you'll excuse me, I am going back to sleep."

Skywalker got about halfway through another acerbic retort before I cut the transmission. Never happy, that one. I sighed and tossed my commlink onto the floor. It was way too early to have to deal with this.

"So," said Maul from the fresher door, "who was that? It didn't sound very friendly."

"Nothing is friendly this early in the morning," I said, rubbing my eyes with the heel of my flesh hand.

"If you say so," Maul said. He was wearing the clothes I had set out, a patterned short-sleeved tunic and a pair of dark canvas trousers with flowers embroidered down the outer seams. My clothes were a little loose on him, but they were the right length. He looked...different, not wearing all black. Less grim. Less harsh. "Who was it?"

"A client," I said. "An idiot. A nuisance. Not necessarily in that order."

"A client?"

"I'm a private investigator. It's not a very lucrative profession, so I take the clients I can get. Even the rude ones."

"I see." Maul stretched his arms and back, then pulled his vaguely cleaner clothes out of the wash.

"You can keep the clothes you're wearing, by the way," I said. "I don't wear those, and it's obvious you don't have much."

Maul looked down at his tunic, tracing down some of the swirling patterns with his fingers and said, "Are you certain?"

"I wouldn't offer if I wasn't certain. It looks good on you."

Maul squinted at me. "Do you always do this? Invite people into your home and...court them?"

"My dear, it's not courting if it's true. You do look lovely, and you do have a beautiful voice. I'm sorry if I'm the first person to tell you that."

"Oh," Maul said, looking vaguely put-off.

"If you're hungry, there are some leftovers in the cooling unit. I trust you know how to heat up food?"

"I'm homeless, not incompetent."

Well, that was good to know.

"Then help yourself. There should be enough for breakfast, whatever your usual diet is."

Maul grunted and went to the kitchen.

I sent a message to Bail, asking him to comm me sometime between 0900 and 1200, then set my datapad aside. After a few minutes, Maul returned with a plate of leftover fried bantha strips.

"You're going back to sleep?" Maul asked.

"Mm. Yes. A few more hours, I think. You don't have to wait around for me--you can leave at your leisure."

"I'll probably leave after I eat. I have some business to take care of."

"Your unfinished business?"

"Yes."

I re-positioned myself on the couch so I could more easily see him. "Maul, I don't know how much you remember from last night--"

"It was only four hours ago. My memory works fine."

"But I meant what I said. Your unfinished business, or your revenge or whatever it is, it might keep you warm now, but it won't last. It won't make you happy."

"I'm not trying to be happy. I'm trying to get satisfaction," Maul said.

"That's a lonely way to live."

Maul jabbed his fork at me. "And you would know?"

"Yes."

He glared at me across the dining table, then set his fork down to fix me with his full laser-point focus. "It's my choice, Kenobi. I have my path and I will not falter, no matter where it leads me."

"Even if it breaks you?"

"Especially then," Maul said. "Maybe you can let go of all your anger and stop caring about the worthless Master that threw you aside, but I can't and won't. My anger makes me strong, Kenobi. It's all I have. You wouldn't understand."

I remembered being angry for such a long time during the war, and after. Angry at the Melida and the Daan for not being able to stop their senseless war, angry at the Senate and the Jedi for looking the other way, angry at Master Jinn for leaving me and never coming back, angry at myself for not being able to do _more_. Anger kept me together in those days, because the alternative was falling to pieces with how scared I was. It focused me and I needed it when I was in danger, but afterwards, when I was safe or what counted for it, it just left me exhausted and unhappy. It was hard to let go. I won't pretend it wasn't.

Maybe Maul still needed his anger, or maybe he'd just forgotten what it felt like to not have it. That was none of my business. He'd certainly been hurt more than I ever had.

"You're right. I don't." I settled down on the couch and pulled my blanket up to my chin.

There was a pause while Maul continued eating. "Despite your foolishness, your hospitality has not been...a completely dismal experience. I still believe you will get stabbed in the back one day, and that person might still be me. But not today."

"I appreciate that."

"I hope we never meet again. That would be better for both of us."

I met his eyes from across the room. "If that's what you want, Maul. Like I said, this is what I would do for anyone. You're not obligated to anything. We might be friends, but I still wouldn't sacrifice my life for you."

"We're not friends."

"Fine. We're not friends. You don't have to be friends to appreciate someone's company, you know," I said. "Especially not for lonely people like us."

Maul cursed at me, which I really should have expected. I closed my eyes and got comfortable on the couch.

"One day," Maul eventually said, "that heart of yours will kill you."

"One day, your anger will kill _you._ And so, we're at an impasse. If I'm to die either way, I think I would rather prefer to leave the world better than when I entered it."

"What for? Nobody will remember you, Kenobi."

"Won't you?"

Maul started to say something, then stopped. Slowly, I felt him reach out in the Force to brush against my presence. I allowed the touch, and after a long moment, he said, "Yes. I will remember you. Even if you are a fool and weak, and get gutted for it, I will remember you."

"I'll remember you as well, Maul. Even if I don't approve of your revenge, even if I have to stop it myself, I will remember you."

I felt a thrum in the Force, resonating from the agreement between us. It wasn't a bond--I wasn't capable of those anymore anyways--but it was a thread of connection. Two lonely people, abandoned by their Masters, walking similar but diverging paths. Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe it was the Force. Maybe it was something else entirely.

"Thank you," Maul said.

* * *

True to his word, by the time I woke for the second time around 0830 and no longer felt the urge to throttle a particular Jedi Knight, Maul had left. 

Despite how short of a time he'd stayed, Maul's absence left a strange emptiness in my apartment. He'd made a light touch in the space, with only small and scattered pieces of evidence to show last night hadn't been some lonely dream--the used medical kit by the dining table, the spots of blood on my bed, the change of clothes he'd left with. It was like he'd gone to the effort of making his presence as unobtrusive as possible, moving nothing he could get away with avoiding and even folding the used blankets and washing the dishes he'd used for his breakfast, which was more consideration than I'd thought him capable of. It was all very surreal.

I was sorry he was gone. Maybe if he'd stayed, we could have become something like friends. Maybe I could have helped him give up the anger that coursed through him, but probably not. It wasn't my responsibility to save people from their own choices, and I didn't have the kind of innate goodness and charisma to make people want to save themselves. All I could do was be there, and I had done so.

It didn't feel like enough, but I would have to satisfy myself with that.

Work would not wait for my personal life, and Skywalker's situation _had_ become more urgent, so half an hour later I was properly fed, groomed, and dressed in some of my nicer shirts and on my way to 500 Republica. As loath as I was to admit Skywalker could be right about anything, speaking to the guards at Senator Amidala's apartment was the next step to take.

500 Republica was the pinnacle of Coruscant's obscene decadence, a thousand-story monument of chromium and crystalresin inlay, standing so tall as if in challenge to the heavens themselves. It was an architectural monstrosity and act of downright hubris in its overwhelming size, furnished with smooth lines and sleek designs of more elegant ages gone by. Anyone with any power worth mentioning within Coruscant had an apartment there--businessmen, senators from influential worlds, and literal royalty were among their typical occupants, not least because the price of an individual apartment could run well over the value of a particularly exciting moon.

Oh, it was grand, for sure. The lobby was practically palatial with wide arches and twinkling chandeliers shining _just so_ to highlight the artful crystal-clear water features and make the real corundum inlays practically glow. The colors were strong reds and golds, bold in their design and masterfully arranged into modern patterns that any artist would be downright envious of. Objectively, aesthetically, it was beautiful.

I knew 500 Republica quite well. Bail had an apartment there, and I had visited him many times before it became unbearable--his continued and required residence there as part of his Senatorial duties was an ongoing point of contention between us.

Despite the beauty and elegance, even ignoring the excess and gross expenditure, 500 Republica made me feel violently ill. There was an incredible air of repression in the building, from the regimented security guards to the tens of thousands of cameras and listening devices and whatever other forms of security they kept loading into the building. Everything I did in there made me feel like I was being watched, the polar opposite of the anonymity of and invisibility within a Coruscanti crowd. It pressed against me like an incessant crawling in the base of my stomach that flung my senses into hyperawareness and made me feel like I was a scared youngling on Melida/Daan all over again. My mechanical hand ached horribly.

I didn't fancy the feeling much at all.

Restlessly, I thumbed the Force-suppressing cuff at the bottom of my coat pocket. It was my personal cuff, calibrated to be just potent enough to block out the worst of the noise without cutting me off entirely. I always had it on hand in case the psychic static became too overwhelming--back in my early days in Coruscant, I'd used it as a sleep aid--but I stayed my hand for now. I didn't like Force suppressants, for all that they were safer for me than for a Jedi. If I used them for more than a couple of hours, adjusting to the city afterwards required a few days of recovery and I didn't have that kind of time. If I put the cuff on, I'd have to keep it on until this was all wrapped up. It would be best if that didn't become necessary.

I schooled my body language into something resembling ease and went directly to the lobby data terminals. Blue holographic maps rotated lazily over their holoprojectors, and I waved them away to pull up the resident directory. It took a bit of searching, but eventually I found Senator Amidala's apartment number, somewhere around the second hundred floor. That would be moderate security, not high enough for 500 Republica guards, but enough for a personal detail, if the resident had one available. Simple enough to go up and ask for an interview.

I sent a guest access request to Senator Amidala's apartment, giving my credentials and identity information. Only a minute passed before the terminal pinged back, telling me that Senator Amidala was not available and not accepting guests. Great.

Obviously, I still had to get up there and talk to the guards. I supposed I could comm Skywalker, who had done protection detail for the Senator, and might know the access codes as a result, but the very thought of getting help from Skywalker gave me hives.

Instead, I scrolled through the directory and sent a different guest access request.

_Ping._

Access granted.

* * *

Auren Sol was a Nautolan trade representative who was very rich and easily excited by things such as private investigators. I didn't really know anything about her business beyond what a cursory HoloNet search turned up or what her relationship with Senator Amidala might be, if any. What I _did_ know was her apartment was right across the hall from the Senator's.

I went up to Senator Amidala's floor and Lady Sol was there to meet me, only too happy to tell me about her work as she walked me over to her apartment. It turned out she did a lot of development in aquaculture and gas saturation maintenance systems, which was interesting to listen to, if irrelevant to my case. I sort of got the idea that Lady Sol didn't get a lot of visitors.

She brought me to her parlor and offered snacks and tea, which I gratefully accepted, and I complimented her interior design, which was evocative of a reef system, complete with kinetic sea-life prints that slowly swam around the room in pre-determined loops. It took a little pleasant conversation--a difficult thing, when I felt ready to jump out a window just to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the building--to navigate the subject to what I was looking for.

"Oh, Senator Amidala? She's a wonderful young lady," Lady Sol told me. "Very well spoken. Very polite."

I nodded. "Of course. I understand she's been off-world for a while due to a diplomatic mission."

"Is she? I hadn't heard that, but I suppose she might be. Very busy, that one. I wonder if she gets enough rest."

"I'll be sure to ask when I speak to her." I sipped my tea--a sweet and pleasant, if peculiar herbal blend. "I saw the guards outside her door. Are they always there, even when she's off-world?"

"Oh, of course. They're very devoted. Senator Amidala was once their queen, you know? It's quite important to them that she stay safe."

"They would hardly be very good guards otherwise," I agreed. "Lady Sol--"

"You can call me Auren, dear."

"As you please, Auren. I'm working on an investigation on Senator Amidala's behalf and I'd love to speak to her guards, but I don't want to take up anyone's time unnecessarily. I noticed you had a passkey camera. Would it be possible to check the surveillance footage?"

Lady Sol was shocked at this revelation. "My passkey camera? To check Amidala's visitors? Why, I never even thought--" She tittered a bit and had another one of her dried fish snacks. "Well, of course I would love to help Senator Amidala, but I don't know if I should share the video footage like that. You really never know what might be on that kind of a thing. Tell me, young man, what are you looking for?"

"I believe someone broke into Senator Amidala's apartment in the last month or so," I said. "Someone who means to harm her. I'm trying to identify the individual in question."

"Someone's trying to hurt Senator Amidala? That's horrible! It's like when she had those Jedi guards all over again! Assassins, can you even believe it?"

"Quite similar, yes. Would you please allow me to check your surveillance footage?"

Lady Sol deliberated on it for a minute or two, then said, "You'll be helping Senator Amidala?"

"I'm investigating this for her safety." I smiled--that usually helped. "I'm sure she would be happy if you assisted my investigation."

"Oh, of course. She's such a nice young lady..." Lady Sol finished her cup of tea, then said, "Very well, young man. Let's go take a look at that surveillance footage."

I didn't sigh with relief, but it was close. It was always dicey, trying to get people to get me this sort of information. I _could_ use the Force to help convince people, but I avoided it on principle, especially on people who were only tangentially related to my cases--if Lady Sol hadn't worked out, I would have gone to a different apartment.

Lady Sol took me to her personal data terminal and did some fiddling around with it to pull up her video surveillance footage, narrowed to the last month.

I ran the data through a filter to skip past all the useless content, then checked the timestamps in reverse chronological order. There was still a lot of chaff to sort through, mostly Lady Sol leaving and entering her own apartment and Senator Amidala's guards changing shifts and--oddly enough--one instance of Knight Skywalker himself visiting.

Why in the world would Skywalker visit Senator Amidala's apartment when she wasn't even there? It wasn't even a short visit--he stayed there overnight. _And_ was wearing a fresh set of clothes when he left.

It was impossible to deny the obvious conclusion. Skywalker was an absolute fool and never should have been a Jedi.

I skimmed through the rest of the footage. Skywalker said he'd gotten the first of the letters a week and a half ago, so if the blackmailer had stolen the stationery it would likely have been around then or, if I was unlucky, some time very far in advance, in which case I was screwed.

After a tedious search, however, it turned out I was _not_ screwed. Three weeks prior, just a few days after Senator Amidala departed on her diplomatic convoy, there was a visitor to the apartment--a humanoid of average height in a hooded black cloak, wearing a mask and gloves. They walked up to the guards with a rolling, confident stride, and waved their hand once before the guards stood aside, expressions vacant.

A mind trick.

I watched as the blackmailer keyed in the passcode--whether obtained from the guards or through other means, I didn't know--then slipped into the apartment without resistance. Twenty minutes later, they left the apartment, performed another mind trick on the guards, and departed. They didn't appear to be holding anything when they left, but stationery could be easily concealed.

I asked Lady Sol if I could make copies of the relevant pieces of footage, and she acquiesced easily. Add yet another reason why 500 Republica was a nightmare for my paranoia.

"You've been a great help, Auren. It's been an honor to meet you," I said with a polite bow on my way out.

"You really must come back again, dear," Lady Sol told me. "I've had a wonderful time speaking with you. Next time you can tell me more stories of your adventures!"

I smiled. "I'd hardly go so far as to call them adventures. But yes, perhaps I'll visit again."

It was unlikely, considering I was about ready to peel my skin off just from being in 500 Republica for over half an hour. But not impossible, I supposed. It was always useful to keep those doors open.

I made my goodbyes, then went across the hall to ask Senator Amidala's guards about the person entering her apartment a few weeks ago, but they denied any attempted entries since Amidala left. I didn't sense any dishonesty in the Force, so it seemed likely the blackmailer had tampered with their memories. As for Skywalker, they were probably under orders not to say anything. That was all I could get out of them.

I couldn't get out of the building fast enough.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skywalker might be an idiot. Obi-Wan isn't being paid enough to deal with this.

I stopped in a small café for a hot drink and something to settle my stomach, and it was then that Bail commed me.

I opened the connection. "Kenobi speaking."

_"Obi-Wan. I didn't expect to hear from you so soon."_

"I hate to disappoint, Bail, but it's still business. You won't be able to take me out to dinner for another few days yet."

Bail's expression fell. _"I see. You...are you okay? You don't look well."_

"I was just at 500 Republica." 

Bail grimaced. He didn't really _understand_ my aversion to the place, but he knew its effects on me. _"Oh, Obi-Wan. Why were you there?"_

"Business, always," I said. "Don't worry, I got the information I needed, so hopefully I won't have to go back for another few months." I took a sip of my extremely sweet cocoa. "Bail, I'll keep this short. What do you know about the relationship between Knight Skywalker and Senator Amidala?"

 _"I wasn't aware there_ was _a 'relationship' between Knight Skywalker and Senator Amidala. They're friendly, I suppose."_

"Darling, I will give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you've either been absurdly busy since the start of the war or cannot stand being in the same room as Skywalker--a sentiment I fully empathize with, incidentally--because I've spoken to him twice and it's already disgustingly obvious that he's well past the point of 'friendly' with Senator Amidala."

_"Knight Skywalker is a Jedi. Aren't relationships forbidden?"_

"No. It would be ridiculous for the Order to completely ban relationships. Jedi are forbidden from _attachment,_ which, as I learned it, has to do with the inability to let go of people, or prioritizing them over their vows to the Order and the Force," I said. Master Jinn had a romantic relationship with another one of the Masters, after all, and while I would hardly consider Master Jinn a shining example of a Jedi who upholds their vows to the Order, nobody else had discouraged his feelings, either. "Jedi Knights, due to their role in the Republic, can't afford to compromise their ideals to where they'll value one person before their duties--that kind of thing makes them lose sight of the Force, and then collateral damage happens and innocent lives are lost--you understand what I mean."

_"It's not so dissimilar to my own duties, when you explain it that way."_

I nodded. "Marriage is discouraged for similar reasons--it's not fair to force a spouse to come second to the Order, and political marriages aren't really a thing for Jedi like they are for you, dear. Of course, sometimes people talk that sort of thing out and it's fine, just uncommon. A lot of people aren't capable of loving without attachment, though, so they have to abstain from relationships entirely or renounce their vows to the Order, which is fine. Not everyone's cut out to be a Jedi and there's no dishonor in accepting that."

Bail looked thoughtful. _"Oh, I see."_

"That said, there is a huge number of political reasons a _Jedi_ shouldn't have a relationship with a _Senator,_ especially with this war going on and Jedi being made into Generals. It's a major conflict of interest on both sides--at the very least, people would view it as a Jedi power grab, and on the Senatorial side, well, you know that part of it already."

 _"Yes, there would certainly be some issues there."_ He rubbed his chin slowly. _"Knight Skywalker and Senator Amidala? You're sure?"_

"Unless you can come up with a good alternate reason why Skywalker has Senator Amidala's apartment codes and apparently keeps a change of clothes there, then yes," I said. "Do you know how long this might have been going on?"

_"Hm. I don't pay attention to Senator Amidala's personal life to that degree, but...I know they first met about eleven years ago. Do you remember the Trade Federation blockade on Naboo?"_

"I was flying around with a bounty hunter that year and didn't get much in the way of intergalactic news. You'll have to refresh my memory."

_"Well, for starters, the Trade Federation set up a blockade on Naboo."_

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, thank you, dear. I'd gathered that much, actually."

_"I don't know the exact details of it, but the Trade Federation laid siege to the palace of Theed and demanded that Queen Amidala sign an extremely exploitative piece of legislature."_

"I assume she did not sign?"

_"No. Master Jinn and young Skywalker intervened, allowing the Naboo forces to fend off the Trade Federation droid army."_

"The Trade Federation had a droid army? What--no, never mind. Why was Skywalker on this mission? He'd have been, what, twelve? Thirteen?"

Bail grimaced. _"Nine, I believe."_

My mind ground to a screeching halt. "What? Do you mean to tell me Skywalker is _twenty_? Are they even allowed to promote Knights that young?"

_"You would know better than I, Obi-Wan."_

I would, and I had never heard of anyone getting promoted so soon. No wonder Skywalker was such an idiot--he was _barely_ an adult, though his personality definitely didn't help. Such an early promotion had probably only exacerbated his arrogance.

"Wait," I said. "Master Jinn brought a _nine-year-old_ into an armed conflict?" Even at his worst, he'd never done _that_ to me. I tried to consider the fact that Master Jinn had somehow gotten _even worse_ since my aborted apprenticeship and couldn't. That was...I couldn't.

 _"I don't really understand the circumstances of it, but I don't think Knight Skywalker was a Padawan at that time,"_ Bail said. _"I believe Master Jinn found young Skywalker around then. Maybe earlier on the same mission."_

"He Searched a nine year old? What was he--" I shook my head and had more of my cocoa before my blood pressure rose even more than it had. "Moving on. How did nine-year-old Skywalker meet Queen Amidala in all of this?"

 _"He apparently piloted a ship and destroyed the droid control ship while Master Jinn defeated one of the major players in the Trade Federation army in single combat,"_ Bail said. _"The two of them were considered heroes and awarded as such after the conflict ended."_

"And I suppose the Queen was happy to thank the two heroes and they hit off some kind of friendship?"

Bail shrugged. _"I don't know those details, unfortunately. After that, the earliest interaction I'm aware of is when then-Padawan Skywalker and Master Jinn were protecting Senator Amidala from assassins."_

"And then what?"

_"I believe they were at the Battle of Geonosis? Though I couldn't explain how they wound up there. And after that, the war started."_

"Did they do anything after the start of the war?"

 _"I'm not sure,"_ Bail said. _"Those days were a nightmare of legislation and--actually, come to think of it, I remember Senator Amidala took a tenday off near the start of all that due to her injuries. She returned to Naboo to recover, much to the chagrin of myself and everyone else poring over the new wartime bills. She bought me a nice bottle of wine in apology when she got back, but I dare say that wasn't worth it."_

"I see."

_"That's all I know, Obi-Wan. I really hope they're not as romantically entangled as you think, or if they are, that they have the presence of mind to keep their work and their personal lives separate."_

"I hope so, too." But with Skywalker involved, I wouldn't count on it. "Did you forward on my request for an interview?"

 _"I did, but Senator Amidala's been in hyperspace and out of contact. I doubt she'll have time to speak to you until she returns to Coruscant,"_ Bail said.

That was unfortunate. I had a lot of questions I could ask her right now. "Just keep me posted. You've been a great help, dear, and as always it's lovely to see you."

Bail's expression went soft. _"You as well, Obi-Wan. Stay safe. Please."_

"I always do my best, Bail."

The transmission ended, and I finished my cocoa and left. It was 1103, and I had a meeting with Skywalker.

* * *

I got to my office a little early, mostly because I didn't want Skywalker to snoop in places he shouldn't be, but I needn't have worried because Skywalker wasn't there.

Instead, there was a Togruta youngling and--

"Jango?" I asked.

A ghost looked up from his position against the wall, and that was when the blond hair and non-beskar armor registered. I felt something bend in my mind, shifting into the correct focus and turning everything a little sideways.

It wasn't Jango at all. This was one of the Republic clones, wearing blue painted duraplast armor, a set of blaster pistols, and Jango's face. Apparently, they had not just made millions of clones for the war, they had cloned _Jango Fett._ The irony of Jango's clones being commanded by the Jedi didn't escape me. The expression slid off my face. "Soldier," I corrected myself.

"Detective," the soldier said, perfectly professional. His voice was all Jango, but with the wrong intonation. The whole thing gave me an incredibly creepy feeling. 

"Do you and your"--I glanced over at the Togruta girl, who had a set of silka beads over her montrals--"...Padawan need something? I'd be happy to help, except that I have a meeting with someone here in about fifteen minutes."

The Togruta answered, "You have to help us find Skyguy!"

I blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Skyguy's been kidnapped and you're one of the last people he talked to," the Togruta said. "You have to help us find him."

"Who the hell is Sky--you mean, Anakin Skywalker? Knight Skywalker's been kidnapped?" I looked over at the soldier. "They let Skywalker have a _Padawan?_ He can't even Master himself!"

The soldier made an incredibly uncomfortable face, which made _me_ uncomfortable to see the unfamiliar expression on Jango's face. "Um," he said. "We have good reason to believe that General Skywalker has been kidnapped. Detective."

"I spoke to him literally six hours ago. How did he manage to get himself kidnapped in that time?"

"With General Skywalker, we've learned to suspend our disbelief," the soldier said, sounding extremely tired. If he had to work directly under Skywalker, I could see why--being in Skywalker's vicinity probably aged you thirty years. "The Commander can tell you more. She's the one who wanted to speak with you."

"The Commander?" I followed the soldier's gaze back to--no. That couldn't be right. "Are you telling me they are making younglings into military officers in the Republic Army?"

"I am not a youngling, I am a _Padawan!_ " the Togruta protested, as if that made all the difference.

I looked at her. She was short, and her blue-and-white striped lekku only went just past her shoulders. Like any Jedi, she had some level of shielding, though I could feel unease and worry radiating off her--she still had a long way to go.

She had to be...young. Skywalker had barely been a Knight for a few months, so she could only really be a maximum of thirteen. As it turned out, I had strong opinions about thirteen-year-olds in war zones.

"Padawan," I said. "What's your name?"

The Togruta stuck her chin out. "Ahsoka Tano."

"Pleasure to meet you, Padawan Tano. I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi. Private investigator."

Tano crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "I know. I read your name on the door."

"I was being polite," I said. "They _do_ still teach manners in the Temple, don't they?"

She stubbornly met and held my gaze, challenging me. Considering she was a literal youngling, this lasted about ten seconds before she looked away and said, "Fine. Nice to meet you, Detective Kenobi. Help us find Master Skywalker?" She flicked her gaze back up at me. "Please."

I took a seat and crossed my legs. "I'm a private investigator. I'm not qualified to handle kidnappings, especially not Jedi kidnappings." I held up my hand before she could yell at me again. "So first tell me what happened, and why you think I can help you."

So Tano explained. Apparently sometime around 0800, Skywalker had received another letter. This one had come with a small package--a hairpin, one often worn by Senator Amidala. Obviously, this greatly upset Skywalker, but in an astounding show of restraint, he didn't run off _quite_ yet, saying that it would only be foolish to run into what was an obvious trap. Tano looked about impressed with this advice coming from her Master as I felt about this entire matter.

Then, around 0820, Skywalker received a comm from an unknown code on an encrypted frequency. It was a humanoid wearing a mask and hooded cloak, saying that they were holding Padmé Amidala hostage, and as a demonstration, the kidnapper had hurt Senator Amidala in some unspecified way, which obviously enraged Skywalker. The kidnapper then continued to say if Skywalker didn't want Senator Amidala to be injured further, then Skywalker had better go to meet them at the given location, upon which Skywalker ran off like the impulsive idiot he was. Not fifty minutes later, his end of Tano's training bond went silent.

Astounding.

"Okay," I said as I scrubbed my hand over my face. "Before I start, I want to say I'm extremely sorry."

"You should be," Tano said. Then, after a pause, "...for what?"

"I'm sorry your Master is an absolute idiot. To begin with, Senator Amidala has not been kidnapped or taken hostage."

"I tried to comm her and couldn't get ahold of her!"

At least _someone_ had the sensibility to try and verify the story. "That's because she's currently in hyperspace, returning from a diplomatic mission in the Mid-Rim. I'm not sure if that's public information or not," I said. "A friend of mine is in the process of confirming her safety right now, but suffice to say, it is impossible for your kidnapper to both be off-world for this alleged kidnapping and also be on-world for their meeting with Skywalker. The fact that Skywalker didn't make even the most cursory attempt to check that Senator Amidala was actually in danger is absurd, yet completely unsurprising."

"But...but she was screaming!"

"Padawan Tano. Senator Amidala is a public figure with thousands of hours of available footage. With the right tools, it is supremely easy to make a synthetic voiceprint and fake something like a scream."

"And the hairpin?"

"Stolen from Senator Amidala's apartment--she undoubtedly has an abundance of them. I already have evidence of the kidnapper breaking into her apartment about three weeks ago. This fake kidnapping was clearly planned to give verisimilitude, but I doubt it was necessary, considering your Master heard about Senator Amidala being in danger and didn't confirm any of the facts before running off to deal with it. Nor, does it appear, did he tell anyone _where_ he was going."

Padawan Tano's expression fell. "No. Skyguy...doesn't really tell people his plans most of the time."

"Like Master like Padawan," I said under my breath. "Okay. So your Master's presence went silent on the other end of your training bond, indicating he has most likely been captured and held with some kind of Force suppressant or blocker. What did you do?"

"Well, I got Rex," she said, gesturing to the soldier beside us. "I thought since he was a Captain and stuff, he'd know something about how we could find Master Skywalker, but uh." She held up a commlink. "We tracked his commlink to some place a couple levels up from here. Seems like he either took it off or someone took it off of him. I went back through the comm logs--"

"That is a military-spec model and Skywalker is your commanding officer. You're not supposed to access comm logs and doing so is multiple levels of illegal."

Padawan Tano rolled her eyes. "I mean, yeah, but that doesn't mean I _can't,_ right? I know how to slice. And besides, Rex was with me, so it's fine."

I didn't know how having a soldier supervise illegal slicing somehow made it _less_ illegal, but I gestured for her to continue regardless. The fact that a literal youngling could slice into the Republic Army's communications technology was a can of worms I could deal with another time.

"Well, I found the logs and obviously I couldn't find anything on the encrypted line, but the comm before that was to you, so I looked you up and found out you were a private investigator. I figured that the only reason Skyguy would talk to a private investigator is if you were doing something about those letters he was getting."

"A logical assumption." Clearly, Padawan Tano was too good for Skywalker.

"So I came to your office to meet you, and Rex said he had to come with me because the lower city isn't safe, even for a Padawan." She didn't stick her tongue out, but she looked like she wanted to.

I glanced back at Rex and nodded. It's good that at least one adult around here wasn't constantly endangering younglings, though I would still need a talk about that whole 'Commander' thing.

"Your soldier is correct," I said. "The lower city really isn't safe, even if you have a lightsaber and know how to use it. It's especially not safe for Padawans who don't know how to shield properly."

Tano made a face at me. "My shielding is perfectly fine! What the hell would _you_ know about shielding anyways? You're not even Force-sensitive."

Okay, well, I guess I'd always wondered if Jedi could still tell I was Force-sensitive. Apparently not. "You don't need the Force to know some things about it, Tano. And I happen to know that the undercity is a psychic cesspool."

"I'm _fine,_ " Tano said. "So stop your worrying."

"I'm not worried, I'm just making sure I don't end up with a catatonic Padawan due to psychic overload that I have to take back to the Temple. So you told Rex about Skywalker being kidnapped. Have you told anyone else?"

"I...no? Master Skywalker really doesn't want anyone to know about the letters he's been getting. I think he's worried he'll get in trouble."

I sighed. "Well, Skywalker's gone and gotten himself kidnapped, so the trouble is a foregone conclusion. This is now officially Temple business. I want you to comm someone you trust and tell them what's happening and where we're going."

"Where we're going?"

"Yeah," I said, getting out of my seat. "You made the right call, coming to me. I know where Skywalker ran off to."

* * *

I had to lay some ground rules, because unlike some people I knew, I took the safety of minors quite seriously.

"For the record, I'm only letting you come along because I know if I don't, you'll run off on your own and do something extremely stupid," I said as I led my tagalongs down the street to where my speeder was parked. "If you're going to do something stupid, I would prefer to be there to make sure you don't get hurt. Which means: if I tell you and Rex to run, you will _run,_ not stay behind and try to fight or sacrifice yourself or whatever other stupid noble thing that jumps into your mind, got it?"

"We'll be fine," Padawan Tano said.

"The kidnapper is Force-sensitive. If we do, in fact, come face-to-face with them, it would be in our best interests to _not_ engage," I said. "If I say we abort mission, we will abort mission. Do you understand?"

"What if Skyguy's being tortured or something? We can't just leave him!"

"If your Master is worth the oxygen he breathes, he will not want you to get killed to save him and he will certainly not thank me for it. Jedi Knights are resilient; you'll have to trust him to stay strong if we can't help right away."

Anger rippled around Padawan Tano. "You can't just say that! They're already Force suppressing him--you don't know what else they could do to Master Skywalker! Don't act like you know what he's going through!"

"Padawan Tano." My voice could have frozen Mustafar. "Don't presume to know my experiences. I have _been_ a prisoner of war before. I know what it's like to be captured by people who are very unhappy with me. If you want to come along to help find your Master, then fine. But you're only coming if you listen to me. I won't have a youngling die on my watch."

Tano crossed her arms and looked away. "I'm not a youngling. I'm fourteen."

They had changed the aging out rules, then. I wondered what else had changed, besides the obvious.

I stopped walking and turned to face Padawan Tano. "You are still a minor, Padawan Tano. And right now, you're my responsibility. Will you listen to me or not?"

She glared at me, stubborn and fierce. I met her gaze evenly, coldly. If we didn't go to find Skywalker, then that was fine with me--I would just as easily hand over the investigation to the Temple, and I certainly had no love for the man myself. But I knew information they didn't, which put time on my side, time that could make a lot of difference for Skywalker. Both of us knew it.

Padawan Tano held out longer this time--just over twenty seconds--then she scowled and looked away, fear and worry overtaking her anger in the Force. "Fine," she said. "But we're not just going to abandon Skyguy. He needs our help."

"I'm not planning to abandon him. Just because I think he's a fool and a disgrace to the Jedi Order doesn't mean I think he deserves to get kidnapped and tortured." I turned back towards the road and began walking again. "My speeder's just around here."

"What? How could you say Skyguy's a disgrace to the Order? He's--he's a hero! He's the Chosen One!"

I shot her a look over my shoulder. "He's the _what?_ "

"The Chosen One that's supposed to bring balance to the Force," Tano said. "It's part of a prophecy. Or something."

"Great, well, I don't care, because I don't believe in prophecy. What I believe is what I've seen with my own eyes, and what I've seen is that your Master is a bomb ready to go off. He's angry, he's uncontrolled, he's incapable of connecting two logical thoughts, and he's definitely too attached to his Senator. Who even knows what else."

Tano angrily sped up a few steps so she could point accusingly at my face. "He's the strongest Jedi the Order's ever seen!"

I sighed. Was _that_ what Master Jinn had seen in Skywalker that he hadn't seen in me? Was it all just a matter of raw strength? I didn't want to think that--I thought Master Jinn was better than that.

"He's the strongest _Force user_ the Order's ever seen, perhaps," I said. I had no way to properly gauge how powerful someone's Force sensitivity was anymore, but the turbulence Skywalker had generated indicated he _was_ strong. "But being a Jedi's a lot more than fancy saberwork and using the Force. It's about discipline and faith and compassion and self-sacrifice. It's about seeing the big picture and being in the right place at the right time to apply the greatest leverage and help as many people as possible."

Tano made a face at me. "You know, for a guy who's never been in the Temple, you sure have a lot of opinions on what it means to be a Jedi."

"There are worse things to have opinions on, and worse opinions to have," I said. "Have I spoken wrongly?"

"...No," she admitted, though she didn't seem to enjoy saying so. "Skyguy's a lot of those things, you know. And he's a good person, even if he's...impulsive."

"You can be a good person and a bad Jedi." I stopped by my speeder and opened the door for Tano and Rex. "Skywalker is volatile and has betrayed his vows at least once. This very incident has proven he's easy to manipulate. His heart may well be in the right place--I don't know him well enough to say in either direction--and he's certainly strong enough to make a difference on his own if he wants to. But if he wants to do it as a Jedi he has to change himself and take care of the principles he's vowed to uphold. Or leave."

Tano climbed up into the front passenger seat. "He can't leave the Order."

I shook my head. "Anyone can leave the Order. It's a way of life, not _slavery._ It's not dishonorable to realize the Jedi way of life isn't for you and choose a different path. Skywalker would likely be much happier if he did so."

Tano looked at me strangely as I climbed up into the driver's seat.

I started up the speeder. "We're going lower into Coruscant. The psychic static gets worse as you go down, so if you're good at shielding, now would be a good time to put it to use." I glanced back at Rex, sitting awkwardly in the back seat. "You okay, Soldier?"

Rex grimaced. "Fine, Detective. I'm not used to people speaking so...frankly about General Skywalker, is all."

"I guess he doesn't wake those people before dawn to yell at them, or there'd be a lot more _frankness_ going around," I said. "I'm sorry you have to work for him. It must be exhausting."

"It's...eventful."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, so is a shipwreck."

I pulled the speeder out and headed down to the lower levels.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan tries to pick up the trail before it's too late.

It was much easier to find the abandoned building the second time around, and our little group got there without difficulty, the general unpleasantness of the lower levels aside.

"This place looks like shit," Padawan Tano said.

"Yes, thank you for your insight." I crouched by the door and listened for any sound inside. There was nothing. "I don't think anyone is in here."

"I thought you said this is where Skyguy was."

"I said this is where he _went_ to, four hours ago. I very much doubt he's still here, but if you want to pick up a trail, this is where we have to start." I pushed the door open and held up my glow stick.

It was much as I had seen yesterday, with thick layers of dust all over the floor, except there were more footprints now--two more sets than when I'd left. One set was the same boot prints I'd seen on the upper story, and the other was probably Skywalker. About halfway through the room, Skywalker's prints stopped, and a couple lines in the dust began--as if Skywalker had been dragged.

I stepped into the room and was once again hit by the peculiar nothing-feeling of the Force. I pulled my senses back, just so I wouldn't get nauseous from it. Briefly, I ran a simple life scan, but didn't pick up anything on the upper floors. It didn't mean we were _safe,_ but at least our kidnapper probably wouldn't ambush us.

I took a holo of the room, then said, "Looks clear. Come on in, but stay off the tracks--your Temple investigators will probably want to see them."

Rex entered first, helmet on and one of his blaster pistols ready. Padawan Tano came in after him, then nearly collapsed as she crossed the threshold.

Rex caught her. "Commander?" 

Tano wheezed. "There's some kind of Force suppression in here."

Oh. I suppose _that_ explained a couple of things--particularly the unnatural stillness in the Force, and why the kidnapper would want to meet here of all places.

"Will you be okay?" I asked.

Tano seemed absolutely offended by my implication and, with difficulty, pulled herself back up. "It'll take a little to get used to. Let's get this over with," she said, still sounding out of breath.

I didn't remember what it was like to get Force suppressed--I was largely immune to all but the most aggressive Force suppressors, and even those didn't affect me like they had when I was Jedi--but it was possible this was the first time it had happened to Padawan Tano, so I waited a bit to make sure she wouldn't pass out. She didn't. She looked shaken, but otherwise stable. I decided to trust her judgement.

"Come in, then," I said. "Sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get out of here."

Rex and Tano, leaning on him, followed me into the building.

"It looks like this is where your Master was subdued," I said, stopping by where Skywalker's footsteps ended. "What do you think happened, Padawan Tano?"

Tano shot me a suspicious look, then ignited her lightsaber to get a better look at the tracks. "It doesn't look like Skyguy fought. There's no lightsaber marks anywhere, and there aren't enough footprints, either."

"No signs of a struggle," Rex agreed.

"Right." I looked back at the tracks leading from the entrance--Skywalker and the kidnapper's, in two parallel lines. "Typically, you'd expect the kidnapper to wait in the building until Skywalker got here, but there are no tracks to that effect--the kidnapper showed up _with_ Skywalker. Side by side. So Skywalker knew them or thought he did. That's probably how he got here so fast, too."

"What? How would you know that?" Tano asked.

"Because it took me over forty minutes to find this place yesterday when I was already on the right level and I doubt your Master's sense of direction is _that_ much better than mine," I said. "You said it took less than fifty minutes for your Master's presence to go silent. If he started from the Jedi Temple, even if he broke every speed limit he could, it'd be impossible to get here that fast unless he already knew the way. Or if someone led him."

"So...what? Skyguy came here with someone, and then they knocked him out or drugged him or something?" Tano grimaced. "And if he couldn't feel the Force, he wouldn't have any warning... But who would do that to him?"

I shrugged. "If I had to guess, someone who didn't like him very much. With his personality, that might be, oh, almost every person he's ever interacted with? Something for you to meditate on once we're out of here, perhaps." I went to the stairs and gestured for them to follow. "Come on, let's find out where these tracks lead."

The tracks led up to the second story and straight to the back room. A deep feeling of unease settled in my stomach. I didn't think Skywalker would be _dead,_ but I was sure we might find something just as disquieting.

I gestured for Rex and Tano to stop. "Stay here for a minute. I want to make records of the crime scene before we do anything." I also didn't want Tano to have to see anything traumatizing without at least some kind of warning.

I took holos of the entire area--again, the Temple investigators would probably want them--then went to the back room and pushed the door open.

Blood.

The examination table had been uncovered, the cloth tossed aside, and there was blood on it. Not a lot--just a few spots of it, dried on the flexiplast covering. Beside it, the medical droid was powered down and badly damaged by a lightsaber--which meant the kidnapper had a lightsaber or had stolen Skywalker's. What remained of the surgical operation supply hatches had been dusted off, and there were scattered pieces of medical equipment on the floor.

I sucked in a breath through my teeth.

"What's going on?" I heard Tano shout from the stairway where she--thankfully--had stayed put. "Did you find Skyguy?"

"No," I replied as I took more records of the evidence. "It looks like his captor may have...operated on him."

_"What?"_

"You can look if you really must--it's not gruesome or anything." In the interests of full disclosure, I added, "There's a medical droid and some equipment here. Watch your step."

Tano and Rex obligingly came over, and I stepped aside so they could see the scene for themselves. Tano made a gagging sound.

"What did they _do?_ " she asked.

"Well, I would suggest checking the medical droid's data logs, but..." I gestured to its ruined state. "That's not possible anymore. The culprit seems to have destroyed both the main memory and the black box. Unfortunately, they were smart enough to cover up that much of their tracks."

I stepped over to the medical droid and took out my pocket hydrospanner to lever off a set of plates on the droid's side.

"Detective, are you sure that's a good idea?" Rex asked.

"I did my homework, you know," I said. "This medical droid was here when I scoped out this location yesterday, though it was deactivated then. I had time to catch up on reading last night, so naturally I searched the design specifications of this model." With a _pop,_ I levered the outside storage panel open. "This surgical droid is required to draw fluid samples before every operation, so labs can be run."

I pulled the inner panel aside, revealing a row of small medical phials. The oldest ones were completely dried out, but three had been taken recently. Two were blood, and the other was a clear fluid.

Charming. Someone was supposed to clear out these samples after every operation due to biohazard risks, but obviously whoever had used this droid hadn't known these samples were here, or they'd have been destroyed as well.

"Is that...Skyguy's blood?" Tano asked, leaning in to get a better look. "What's the clear stuff?"

"I'm a detective, not a biological assay droid." I used my hydrospanner to pull out the entire storage panel, phials included. "You'll have to take these somewhere for testing. If it's Skywalker's, then we'll have definitive proof that he was here and operated on, and if we're lucky, the samples might tell us something about what operation occurred." I handed the storage panel off to Padawan Tano. "The Temple will suffice. The Halls of Healing should be able to compare these with Skywalker's information, and this is really the Temple's problem anyways."

Tano took the panel and made a face. "What about all this dried stuff?"

"I don't know. The kidnapper is a Force user, and they might be someone Skywalker knows, so they could be on file at the Temple as well. Assuming these older samples are from the kidnapper and the samples are still testable in this condition, anyways. There's no guarantee of that," I said.

Tano bit her lip. "Are we...can we even find Skyguy?" Her voice was trembling.

I set a hand on her shoulder. I wasn't good at comforting people--I never had been--but I had to do what I could. "We're going to do the best we can. If there's one thing I know, it's that there's always a trail. It might stop and start in places, but it's always there. We'll follow it as far as we can, and so will your peers at the Temple--they'd hardly let the Chosen One get away from them, would they?"

"You'll keep helping us?" Rex asked.

"Yes, Soldier. Knight Skywalker gave me a retainer for two days, you know. I'm still on the clock." I turned back towards the stairs.

Tano grabbed my arm and yanked me back. "You're only helping us because he paid you?"

I glanced back at her. "I didn't say that."

"Then you're helping us because you want to?"

"I didn't say that, either." I tugged my sleeve out of her grip. "Come on. Let's check the rest of the building and get out of here."

I followed the kidnapper's footprints up the stairs, all the way to the roof access where there was no longer any dust to disturb. That seems to be where the culprit had taken off with Skywalker, whether directly into a speeder or onto an adjacent building or hopping down to the ground--hardly difficult for a Force-sensitive.

It looked like our trail had run cold.

* * *

The trip to the Jedi Temple was quiet. Padawan Tano was still shaken after her bout of Force suppression, but she managed to comm Master Koon about what we'd found, and Rex had to make some comms of his own.

"So, Padawan Tano. Why Master Koon?" I asked once we were on the upper levels again.

"What?" Tano asked.

"Why did you contact Master Koon and not Master Jinn? Isn't he your Grandmaster?"

"How do you know who my Grandmaster is?" Tano asked.

"I've been investigating this case for an entire day. Of course I know who Skywalker's Master is, and transitivity makes his Master your Grandmaster," I replied. "Though you have good instincts to be suspicious. Lineage information is not that easy to find, especially from outside the Temple."

If it were a high-publicity duo, it would only take a few choice news searches, but for most cases, it would require a lot of combing through the mission archives--Padawans weren't searchable in the archives for privacy reasons and they were generally only mentioned in the full text, and only if they did something noteworthy. Since Masters sometimes did missions with other Masters' Padawans, a Padawan getting mentioned in a report didn't necessarily mean they and the reporting Master were associated, but if the Master did multiple missions with the same Padawan, well, chances were pretty high.

I wondered if my name ever came up in the mission archives at all, considering how bad Master Jinn was about writing reports. I'd never had the urge to check, but since Dex hadn't known about me despite apparently being friends with Master Jinn, I was leaning towards no.

I wasn't sure how I felt about that. As glad as I was for people to not be able to find that kind of information about me, it seemed a bit unfair that my short and traumatic Padawanship would be so inconsequential.

Well, there was nothing to be done for it one way or another.

"...Master Jinn isn't in the Temple," Tano said. "He's off on some solo mission, I think."

"The Council sent Master Jinn on a solo mission? You'd think with the war going on, they'd want _fewer_ overthrown governments, not _more._ "

Rex made a choking sound.

"Um," Tano said. "At least that's what he said. I don't think he spends a lot of time at the Temple. I don't really...know him that well."

That, I could believe. Before my apprenticeship, everyone knew Master Jinn stayed out of the Temple for as long as he could possibly manage--presumably specifically to avoid having to take on a Padawan. Even after he took me on, I remembered having to frantically catch up on coursework in the short time I was in the Temple between missions and stays in the Halls of Healing.

It was disappointing, but not surprising, that Master Jinn didn't spend much time with his Grandpadawan--if we hadn't lived in the same quarters when I was a Padawan, I suspected he would not have spent much time with _me,_ either.

It made me sorry. If, in some other reality, I had become a Master, and then a Grandmaster, I would spend as much time with my students as I could, and teach them everything I knew, and care for them the way I hadn't been. That would be my duty and honor as a teacher and to the family I had built. Even now, it was something I regretted I couldn't have, even when I was at peace about losing every other part of the Jedi life--I didn't like that Master Jinn would squander the opportunity, but he and I had never wanted the same things. Perhaps I was an outlier to care so much about an extended lineage; I only recalled meeting Master Dooku once, and Master Jinn certainly didn't seem to care all that much for Master Yoda.

"You're close with Master Koon, then?" I asked.

"Yeah. He's the one who Searched me," Tano said softly. "He helped me in the crèche and stuff, and I thought he'd be my Master one day, but, uh. I got assigned to Skyguy."

"Assigned? They don't--are you saying Skywalker didn't choose you?"

"Um. I mean, it was a little rocky at first, but we get along great now," Tano said. "He's a good Master, he really is! Even though he's got his quirks and all that."

"That wasn't what I asked, Padawan Tano."

Tano let out a small, defeated sigh. "No. I got shipped out to the battlefront and I met him there. He didn't even know I was coming, but I refused to leave. I don't think he wanted a Padawan, but I think...we're doing good now? Like, I think he cares about me, and he teaches me stuff, like how a Master should. And he _is_ the Chosen One or something, so he's really good at the stuff he does."

"Do you _think_ he cares about you and your wellbeing, or does he actually show you he does?"

A thread of pure _hurt_ radiated off of Tano. "What's the big idea, asking me that kind of question? Master Skywalker isn't _abusing_ me!"

"He doesn't have to actively hurt you to cause harm. In my experience, Masters who don't want Padawans don't make good Masters, and those Padawans suffer for it. Skywalker's young and hasn't even been Knighted for a year, and it was at the start of this war. Even if he has the temperament and patience to be a teacher, which I doubt, he probably barely knows how to operate on his own without his own Master for guidance. He _absolutely_ doesn't know what it means to be a Knight outside of the war. If he is a good Master, then good. I'm glad. But if he's not, then someone has to do something about it. Get you a Master who will give you the care and education you need."

"What the hell do you even know about Masters and Padawans! You're not a Jedi! You're not even part of the Temple!"

"Padawan Tano, you've got a good eye for details and great instincts. I'm sure that if you take a nice long second to think about it, you can come to the logical conclusion as to why I know what I know about the Temple and Temple life."

I pulled the speeder into the Jedi Temple's public speeder bay and unlocked the doors.

"Here we are. Go take those samples to the Halls of Healing," I said.

She shot me a look. "You're not coming?"

"I've got to make some comms. The investigation business isn't all breaking into abandoned buildings, you know. Besides, you're a Padawan. You know your way around the Temple, and if you can't move around your own home without an escort, then there's really nothing I can do."

Her suspicion didn't fade, but she looked at Rex and asked, "What about you?"

"I'll stay here, if you don't mind," Rex said. "Keep the good Detective company. The Temple's a bit much for someone like me."

Padawan Tano's eyes flicked from him to me and back. Then, coming to a decision, she bowed shortly and said, "I'll be right back. Don't leave without me!"

"I won't," I said.

Without even a backwards glance, she shot off to the Temple gates. I just hoped she didn't drop our evidence.

"So," said Rex from behind me. "Detective."

"So," I said in the same tone. "Soldier."

"Not a big fan of the Jedi, are you, Detective?"

"I think they're fine," I said. "I don't think they should be involved in this war, and I think some specific Jedi have made some very poor choices, but as an institution I don't think they're bad at all. Esoteric and insular, certainly, but there's nothing inherently wrong with them or the people who live by their principles."

"And of course, you think General Skywalker is a disgrace to the Order."

"Yes, of course." I pulled my datapad and checked my messages. The inquiry to my network I'd made after my comm with Bail had garnered a couple of responses from investigators I could contact around the Mid-Rim. Good. "So, Soldier, I was wondering. Is Rex actually your name?"

"What? Yes, why wouldn't it be?" Rex asked.

"No reason. It's just that when Skywalker hired me, he tried to obfuscate his identity by using your name," I said. "I don't really understand why he bothered, considering I found his actual identity less than an hour later. But I figure if he used your name, you two are close, correct?"

Rex's face went red. "No! Not like...Detective. He's my commanding officer. I'm his Captain."

"Padawan Tano mentioned something to that effect. Captain Rex?"

Rex nodded.

"That's got a ring to it, I must admit. Do you want me to call you by your name? I should have asked earlier, and I apologize for that. I realize calling you 'Soldier' all the time could be demeaning."

"I don't mind. I call you Detective, don't I?"

I didn't think those were exactly equivalent, considering nobody had paid for and grown me specifically for investigation, but perhaps from Rex's point of view, they were close enough. I certainly didn't sense any discomfort from my calling him Soldier.

"If you say so," I said.

"I do, Detective," Rex said. "I've been meaning to ask. You called me Jango when you saw me. Did you know _buir?_ "

What a question. I had known Jango _quite_ well, in bits and pieces over the course of two years. We'd shared time on his ship in the loneliness of hyperspace and saved each other's lives on his hunts at least twice apiece and told each other stories from different planets across the galaxy. He showed me how to find someone who didn't want to be found, and learned I was good at it, and somewhere along the way, between the words and the shared space and the work, we built something that nestled comfortably in my chest and eased the constant ache I'd felt ever since I lost the Force.

We had been equals of a sort. No judgement but a willing ear as we spoke frankly and bled out our poisons. I told him about how I had left the Jedi for a war, then won that war and took the fall for it. I talked about how I found myself adrift in the galaxy and trying to find a purpose. I'd press my mechanical hand into his hands, and I'd almost feel it when he squeezed tightly, and I would tell him about how I struggled with my anger until Jedha, until after, until I realized it was only hurting me and shed it, and tried to help people where I could, when I could, because after I'd burned away my anger that was all I had left. In return, he told me about Galidraan and how he hated the Jedi and wished for the True Mandalorians to rise again. He told me about Death Watch and what had happened to his home. On bad nights, he told me about the things that came after, the slavery and the shame of failing his people and the people he still had to eliminate. He spoke fondly of his father and Mandalore and taught me about his trade and culture and in quiet moments, he'd tell me how he wanted a family for his own and perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if...

Well, it didn't matter. We had conflicting ideals and needs we couldn't reconcile on a permanent basis, and neither of us were the sort to push something serious on feelings alone--even the feelings we had in those last few months. It was an amicable, if bittersweet parting, and I went to Coruscant while he went out into the wider galaxy, apparently to get millions of clones made of him. I didn't hear from him again. Now that he was dead, I never would.

I said none of this. "Jango Fett and I were friends for some time. He tried to convince me to become a bounty hunter, but it didn't take and we fell out of contact. I didn't hear about him again until his death at Geonosis."

And what a bit of news _that_ had been. It hadn't been mentioned in any of the Republic news sources, since the starting war had very neatly flooded those, but my own network had been happy to inform me of Jango's death.

Beheaded by Jedi Master Mace Windu. Not the way he would have wanted to go.

I mourned him over a bottle of the absurdly strong whiskey he'd enjoyed, but it never felt like enough. Seeing his face again on Rex was...difficult. I didn't even want to think about the millions of other clones with his face.

"Oh. I'm sorry," Rex said.

" _Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la,_ " I replied. Not gone, merely marching far away. After all this time, the Mando'a felt strange on my tongue.

Rex startled. "You've got the same accent as him. Were you...did you ever swap armor?"

I shook my head. "I didn't have any armor to swap. He called me all kinds of idiot for it, but I've never been very good about wearing armor--even getting a blaster-proof coat took getting shot a few times first. We swapped weapons, once. I gave him one of my stun batons as a joke because he caused too much collateral damage. He gave me a positively ancient slugthrower in return. For if I need to kill a Jedi, he said."

Rex frowned. " _Buir_ didn't like the Jedi much, did he?"

"No, he didn't. He wanted to kill them all, last we spoke, which is why it's strange that his army is being led by them," I said. "Just as strange as why the Republic had an army made at all."

"Why would that be strange?" Rex asked.

"It's illegal, for one thing. I don't know what they taught you, wherever you were grown, but full-body cloning has been extremely illegal for a very, very long time. But also, a clone army is quite time sensitive, isn't it? Strange to build an army from scratch when it needs such a long lead time and there was no need of it twenty years ago," I said.

"Ten," Rex corrected. "We have accelerated growth."

He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, and that made me want to crawl in a hole somewhere.

I settled for pinching the bridge of my nose. "They're sending ten-year-old clones into war. Lovely. I didn't want to know that," I said. "But the point remains. How did they know, ten years ago, that they would need an army, ten years later? If the Separatists had attacked a couple of years earlier--which given the way tensions have risen these past few years, may well have happened--you and your soldiers--"

"--Brothers--"

"--brothers, yes, would not have been ready. The Republic is a lot of things, but it's not precognizant."

"It was a Jedi who ordered the army. One who saw the future, from what I heard."

I didn't know any Jedi who could see that far into the future, but that didn't mean they didn't exist. The gifts of the Force were varied and strange, and the Temple was incredibly diverse--if someone had that ability, it would have been very easy for me to not hear about it.

That didn't explain something as incredibly _un-Jedi_ as commissioning the creation of real, sentient _people_ for the express purpose of war, though. Where had the money come from?

"What, so Jango _knew_ the army would be used by the Jedi?"

" _We_ knew we were made for the Jedi," Rex said. "And he helped train us. We were taught to work under Jedi command and be what they needed--though none of us actually _met_ a Jedi until Geonosis. We put quite a lot of work into it, Detective."

I scrubbed a hand over the bottom half of my face. "I can't see it. I cannot imagine Jango ever making an army for the Jedi unless it was to kill them all."

A wave of indignation rolled off of Rex. "We--we would _never!_ "

"Yeah," I said. "I believe it. So something here's wrong. Under normal circumstances, Jango wouldn't have accepted a deal like this, even if he was paid for it--his hatred of the Jedi was _very_ important to him. He certainly wouldn't have accepted it if offered to him _by_ a Jedi, which raises the question of who, exactly, requested this, and what they promised. _And_ who knew there would be a need for an army right when you and your brothers were ready to fight."

"You're talking a conspiracy," Rex said.

"I'm saying it's all very convenient timing, and when you're in my business as long as you are, at some point you stop believing in coincidences."

Rex looked incredibly uncomfortable with that idea.

"Maybe think about it." I pulled out my commlink and punched in a code. "If that's all, I do actually have to make a few comms."

"To whom?"

"Some colleagues," I said. "If you don't mind, I'm taking a short walk over there so you're not listening over my shoulder."

I hopped off the speeder and made my comms to the investigators on the Mid-Rim to get ahold of their locations. One of them was only a few hours out from Naboo, so I asked them to please go there and check the clerk's offices there for a marriage license for Padmé Amidala or Anakin Skywalker, most likely dated within the first two weeks of the war.

 _"Amidala? Isn't that a senator?"_ my colleague asked.

"Yes, she is. Which is why I would guess the certificate, if it exists, will be at a smaller clerical office. If there was a wedding, it was very fast and probably secret. It might be easier if you start at places close to where Senator Amidala lives. I can pay my usual rates."

_"You're too sweet, Kenobi. Give me one day and if that certificate exists, I'll fish it up."_

"Good. If you find it, get me a copy of it and all the related documentation. _Legally._ And keep it quiet--I'm trying to avoid a scandal, not start one. Typical encryption will be fine."

My colleague made a clicking sound with their tongue, said, _"Okay,_ Mother. _I'll get right on it,"_ then ended the transmission. So that was taken care of. I hadn't decided yet if I wanted the marriage to exist or not, but I couldn't in good conscience ignore the possibility.

I got a ping on my datapad and checked it. It was Bail--Senator Amidala's convoy had just stopped for refuelling, and the woman herself was, in fact, safe and emphatically not kidnapped or held hostage.

I replied with my thanks, then tapped the edge of the datapad against my chin. Senator Amidala had been sent threats through Skywalker, concerning a secret which deeply involved them both. Senator Amidala was now safe, while Skywalker was now in danger. There was only one obvious conclusion to make:

Anakin Skywalker had been the target all along.

* * *

It took about thirty minutes for Padawan Tano to return from the Temple.

"It's Skyguy's blood," she said without preamble as she climbed into the passenger side seat.

"What?" I asked. "How could you possibly know that? That was absolutely _not_ long enough to run a PCR."

"Huh? How would you know that?"

I valiantly resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I have been known to read a book from time to time. How did they run a DNA test that fast?"

"Didn't have to check the DNA. There are other blood tests they can run that are faster," Tano said. "I told you, he's the strongest Force user the Order's ever had. Unless there's another Chosen One running around, it's definitely Skyguy's."

Right. _Those_ kinds of blood tests.

"Okay. What else did you learn?" I asked.

"The clear stuff was brain juice."

I sighed. Younglings, sometimes. "It was _what?_ "

"Brain juice. You know. Cerebro-something or other."

"Cerebrospinal fluid, you mean," I said.

Tano shrugged. "Yeah. That."

I must have made quite the unpleasant face, because she looked at me and said, "Uh. Is that bad?"

"It's certainly not _good_ ," I said. "It means the medical droid did some kind of neurosurgery, though I can't imagine what. It's not capable of brain surgery, so it would have to be something related to his spine."

"Why would a kidnapper want to do spinal surgery on General Skywalker?" Rex asked.

"Good question, Soldier. I have no idea, but every single possibility I can think of is horrible." I took a deep breath and blew it out of my nose. "Okay, so I assume the Temple is now investigating this case?"

"Yeah," Tano said. "Master Plo sent some Masters and Knights out to track Skyguy down. They've probably gotten to the abandoned building by now."

Assuming they hadn't gotten lost, anyways.

"Lovely. Maybe they can use the Force to learn something. In the meantime," I took out a datachip with the holos I'd taken of the abandoned building. "Please forward these on. They'll probably find it useful, and hopefully it'll keep them from yelling at us for walking all over their crime scene."

Tano nodded and took the datachip from me.

"Which brings us to now. Padawan Tano. Soldier. What are your plans?" I asked.

"We're getting Skyguy back, obviously," Tano said.

"I'm staying with the Commander," Rex said.

I clasped my hands. "Yes, I'd gathered that much. I meant, now that the Temple has their own investigation, are you going to help them? I'm sure that you, Padawan Tano, would prefer to spend time with other Jedi instead of an old private investigator like me. Your talents can probably be put to better use there."

Tano rolled her eyes. "I'm not leaving."

"Okay. And why not?"

"Because you're clearly the only person here who knows what the kriff is going on," Tano said.

"Language," I chided.

" _And,_ you seem like a pretty okay person. Even if you're super hung-up on manners and have a weird vendetta against Skyguy."

"I will be less belligerent towards your Master when he proves himself capable of a minimum amount of courtesy," I said.

"Like I said. Weird vendetta," Tano said. "Also, you...used to be an Initiate, right? So you know about all this Force stuff, sort of."

So she had figured that out. I knew she would--she was a smart kid.

"Padawan, actually," I said. "And no, I'm not discussing my life story with you right now."

Tano made a face like she had some questions, but I continued before she could ask them. "My being a former Jedi doesn't mean you should trust me, though."

Tano rolled her eyes. "I don't. That's why I have Rex. And my lightsaber. But I don't think I need to have either of those--I've got a good feeling about you."

She seemed pretty confident about her chances against me, which was kind of patronizing. Even with Captain Rex, if I really had nefarious goals and wanted to take them both out, I probably could--I hadn't survived as long as I had by dumb luck, and I wasn't above fighting dirty or weaponizing what Force I had.

I kept that to myself. "I'm flattered the Force thinks so highly of me."

Tano nodded. "Right. And there's no way the Masters investigating Skyguy would let me help, so I'm just gonna let them do their fancy Force investigations and we're going to do our own investigations, however you do that. You can teach me and Rex what to do, and that way we'll find Skyguy twice as fast." She clapped Rex on the shoulder, who did not look enthusiastic about being volunteered. "So what do we do next, Master Detective?"

I sighed. When I woke up this morning, I really hadn't expected my client to get kidnapped, nor to get roped into the investigation by his his very stubborn Padawan. At this point, it looked like I was stuck with her whether I liked it or not.

I _didn't_ like it, just on principle--I'd gotten my fair share of bruises and rough treatment over the course of my investigations, and adding a youngling to the equation wouldn't make it better for me or for her. But chances were, now that Skywalker had already up and gotten himself captured, nobody would come out of the woodwork and beat on me for snooping around--at least, not until someone got close. If that happened and someone attacked Padawan Tano, I would much prefer she was with me than on her own in the lower levels with only one soldier to watch her back.

It didn't have to be all bad. I wasn't lying when I said Padawan Tano had a good head on her shoulders--one that was absolutely wasted on the likes of Anakin Skywalker. Anyone would be pleased to work with her, myself included. If she learned fast, if she didn't get too upset about the boring parts of an investigation, maybe I could teach her something in the middle of all of this. Make something out of the situation.

"Well," I said, "recent events have brought me to the conclusion that all this--blackmail included--has been a ploy to get ahold of Skywalker from the very beginning."

"Blackmail?" Rex asked.

"From the beginning?" Tano asked.

I resisted the urge to put my face in my hands. "Okay, so he didn't take you two into his confidence. I'm pretty sure I know why, but this is also not a conversation I'm having in a speeder bay. We will get lunch--a late lunch, I suppose--and I will explain what I can. After that, we'll figure out what to do next. Okay?"

Padawan Tano nodded. "Can I pick the restaurant?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and friends follow up on their leads.

Padawan Tano ended up selecting a small barbecue place only a couple of levels into the undercity that I had never heard of. Apparently Master Koon had taken Tano a few times when she was in the crèche and still getting settled in at the Temple. It was probably lovely, but frankly, I wasn't paying much attention to the food.

"Great, so that sucks," Rex said after I explained the essentials of the blackmail-and-kidnapping situation. "What leads do we have, Detective?"

Considering the distribution of work so far, this didn't feel very much like a 'we' situation. I supposed it could become one, unless Rex and Tano had as little common sense as their wayward Knight. I felt cautiously optimistic on that part, since I'd spent half an afternoon with them and didn't want to strangle anyone yet.

"Well, the kidnapper is humanoid, about my height, and probably male," I said. "They're Force-sensitive, and friends with or associated with someone who's friends with Skywalker. They're also likely connected to the Chancellor's office."

Rex blinked. "The Supreme Chancellor?"

"The very same. This case has implicated Chancellor Palpatine multiple times--at minimum, there is the bill to be stopped, the address of the kidnapping, and the return address on the blackmail letters. Of course, since we now know the blackmail was bait and never meant for follow-up except to lure Skywalker into his kidnapping, none of that guarantees the Chancellor's involvement. If he somehow isn't, then someone is going to a _lot_ of effort to make it look that way. And he's a friend of Skywalker's, so he might know Skywalker's current address."

"He does," Tano confirmed through a mouthful of freshly grilled nerf steak. "Skyguy told him."

"Please don't talk with your mouth full," I said. "But thank you, that's good to know. So a Force-sensitive who's connected to the Chancellor and friends with Skywalker. How many friends does Skywalker have?"

"Um," Tano said. "I don't know. He's friends with Senator Amidala, I think."

"Considering he just got himself kidnapped by rushing in without thinking for half a second trying to 'help' her, we can probably take that for granted," I said. "He's also apparently friends with Chancellor Palpatine, for some reason. Anyone else? Any Jedi?"

"Well, he cares a lot about Master Jinn. Other than that...I'm not sure. He's friendly with Knight Unduli, I guess, and Knight Secura, but I wouldn't really go so far as to call them friends, you know? He doesn't really get out that much except to work on droids or speeder bikes or whatever."

So Skywalker wasn't much for camaraderie. Considering he apparently joined the Temple at age nine, probably became a Padawan almost immediately, and had the whole 'Chosen One' thing hanging over him--to say nothing of his personality--it wasn't a huge surprise, though it was kind of sad. It was practically unthinkable for a crèche-raised Jedi to have such a skeletal support network. Even _I,_ the clumsy idiot who got into fights, had a lot of friends growing up and trusted a large majority of the Masters in the Temple. I wondered if Skywalker even really understood or cared about Temple culture, joining so late and not spending time with the people there. Maybe that's where his irreverence for the Code came from--though _that_ could just as easily have come from Master Jinn.

If Skywalker had almost no friends, then who did he trust to help him investigate his extremely personal blackmailing to where he would walk side by side with them to the rendezvous? Master Jinn? I doubted it--Skywalker might trust him enough, but Master Jinn was off-planet, too tall to be the culprit, and would _not_ have chosen a method so convoluted to kidnap his own apprentice, which I also doubted he'd ever want to do anyways. Considering Skywalker hadn't shared the barest details of the blackmail with his Padawan or Captain, who seemed to be some of the closest people to him, it seemed like he hadn't told _anyone_ about it. The only people who might have even _known_ about the blackmailing would have been Senator Amidala herself--who obviously wasn't the kidnapper on account of she wasn't even in the same star system--or the Chancellor, who didn't exactly have the freedom to go around kidnapping Jedi Knights. Maybe if it were someone acting on the Chancellor's behalf, or representing themselves as such?

"Hello? Detective? Anything you want to share?" Rex asked, snapping me back to the present.

"No," I said. "I'm trying to think of who might fit all the criteria. I'm not coming up with any answers."

Rex frowned. "Okay. Then what else do we have to work with?"

"We have the building where the kidnapping occurred and the medical droid we found in it. The abandoned apartment had Force suppression built into it--that requires expensive materials and labor." I addressed Padawan Tano. "Your bond with Skywalker is still silent, correct?"

She nodded.

"So that leaves us with a few options--either he's being held in Force suppressing restraints, or being injected with Force suppressants, or imprisoned in some location that stops Padawan Tano from sensing him through the Force. There's not a lot we can do about the first two, but if it's the last one, then we should be able to find records of it by tracing construction work commissioned by the Chancellor."

"And the medical droid?" Rex prompted.

"Surgery-rated droids aren't available for private purchase. Even the ones only meant for minor surgeries," I said. "Too many liability issues. That doesn't stop it from happening anyways--as with many things, if you're rich enough, you can make things happen that wouldn't otherwise occur. It's pretty clear the medical droid was a critical part of whatever plan the kidnapper had--nobody preps a victim for a spinal surgery as a spur-of-the-moment decision--so it would be worth tracing its origins. If we're lucky, we'll find the kidnapper's name or their associates attached to it."

Tano, having finished her own sizeable portion of barbecue, took a piece of meat off of my plate. "How are we supposed to do that? The kidnapper destroyed all the useful parts of the droid."

"Yes, well, fortunately for you, I examined the droid _before_ it was destroyed, and had the foresight to record its serial number. We can use that to, at minimum, find where and when it was manufactured and its original owners."

"We can?" Tano asked. "How are we supposed to find all that?"

"Have you ever been to Coruscant's Hall of Records?"

Tano shook her head.

"Then, young Padawan, today you'll learn something new."

* * *

Coruscant's Hall of Records was, by necessity, enormous. It was so large that it wasn't contained within one building, but separated into three equally colossal buildings, connected by undercity shuttles. In the next few years, they would probably have to add another one--or rather, start arguing about funding for a new one in the Senate.

I took us to the main branch--the original building that stood at the edge of the Senate district and would be most likely to have what we were looking for, or at least tell us where we'd need to look.

Outside of its gargantuan size, it wasn't very impressive. It was more of a bunker than any sort of traditional archive, with no windows or architectural embellishments. It was an almost brutally rectangular building made out of old-style permacrete--the kind of stuff that would survive the heat death of the universe--with a plain facade, adorned only by a set of large synthweave tapestries. The largest carried the Republic's insignia, while several smaller but still enormous tapestries carried insignias from various other worlds and trade guilds. Altogether, the Hall of Records was simple and aggressively utilitarian, which I supposed carried an elegance of its own.

Tano did not agree. "This is the place? What an eyesore."

I put a hand on her shoulder. "Patience, young Padawan. Soon, everything will become clear."

It took about twenty minutes to go through security--in no small part due to difficulties with Rex's credentials, since he technically was not a Republic citizen, a patently absurd and unjust situation considering his literal job was to risk his life for the Republic--but after some back-and-forth arguments, we secured all three visitor passes and were allowed into the main Archive.

I took us past the front entrance and into the main antechamber. It was a modestly sized semi-circular room with warm lighting and a large mosaic of the Republic emblem embedded in the tile floor, and the slightly stifling feeling like being in a cave, with air that was a little too still and a little too stagnant. Several public data terminals lined the walls, set between doorways to take patrons down to private study rooms and the shuttle access. Above us, the ceiling was cut away through all forty stories to the Hall's high ceiling, revealing walls and walls and walls of datapads glowing softly blue against the dim-lit archives.

"Woah," Tano said, stopping to stare up through the levels. "How much stuff is here?"

"About a thousand years' worth of it, I would imagine. The Hall of Records was built around the time the Republic was."

"So this is some kind of huge library?"

"No, it's not a library. You won't find novels or histories in here like you would find in the Temple Archives," I said, swiping my visitor's pass to log onto a data terminal. "The Coruscant Hall of Records is the heart of Coruscant's--and the Republic's--bureaucracy. It holds all revisions of all laws across the Republic, all publicly available business manuscripts, all the records of intergalactic trade agreements, and information on benefactors to the Senate and other public projects. It also has all the business information of Coruscant-local affairs, such as real estate records. Among many other things. You can retrieve some of it remotely, but for full documents you have to use the on-site terminals."

Tano wrinkled her nose. "That sounds super boring."

"That's because it is," I said. "But if you want to learn more about something, more often than not you'll get there by following the money. Everything in Coruscant has a money trail, and if you need to track down the history of a piece of equipment or a location or a business's expenditures, this is the place to do it. The benefit of being in Coruscant, the center of the Republic, is that all trade guilds and Republic worlds have to report their information yearly. It means the data is often a little out of date, but for most purposes the one-year lag doesn't make much of a difference."

Rex gave me a considering look. "You're very knowledgeable about this, Detective."

"Of course, Soldier," I said. "I'm one of the only investigators in my network on Coruscant--a lot of my income comes from tracking down information in here when off-world investigators need it. If I wasn't good at it, I'd have starved a long time ago."

"You have a network?" Tano asked.

I nodded. "It's a big galaxy, and information is decentralized. There's no feasible way to make a living in this business without connections." I pulled up the real estate database on the data terminal. "Good life advice for every occasion, I should think. Hopefully, your Master can find time in this war to teach you about networking."

Tano looked less than excited about that idea.

I waved my companions over to the terminal. "Come on. I'll show you how to use the databases."

* * *

Padawan Tano and Rex, to their credit, learned quickly. Tano, especially, had an excellent grasp for research--an aptitude which would carry her very far as a Jedi, or for many other professions, if the Jedi didn't work out for her.

Unfortunately, all the aptitude in the world didn't make finding money trails any easier or less tedious. Four hours of research later, we had tracked the medical droid's origins to a Trade Federation-owned droid factory around the Mid-Rim. It was originally employed in the day surgery at a major hospital on Naboo before the whole line was decommissioned in the wake of new surgical models, approximately thirty years ago. The medical droids were released to an off-world recycling plant and broken down for spare parts--our medical droid's serial number was on the list of decommissioned droids, which meant _someone_ had tampered with the records.

This incidentally coincided with Palpatine's second term within Naboo's government--at that point, he had not yet become Senator on Coruscant. He was not the only person who could have secreted away a few medical droids on the way to recycling and edited the related records, but his position made it uniquely easy. Chances were, there were some extra medical droids floating around besides just the one we'd found, though I couldn't understand why he'd possibly need such things.

We had officially reached the point where we couldn't deny Chancellor Palpatine's involvement.

As for the construction and real estate records, we had compiled several lists and gathered copies of many relevant files but found no concrete answers bringing us closer to Skywalker's location. If Chancellor Palpatine had built more Force-suppressing buildings around Coruscant, he had done a good job of cleaning up after himself. As it was, we had approximately six thousand addresses within Coruscant that _might_ be connected to the Senate and _might_ have Force-suppressing or -interfering structures. Five hundred if we restricted ourselves to the nearest city districts.

Hide a tree within a forest, and all that.

I put down my datapad and squeezed my eyes shut. All the aphorisms in the galaxy didn't change the fact that finding Skywalker with just this would be nightmarish. Research was a major part of the investigator's life, and I liked to think I was fairly competent at it, but it didn't mean all the reading and databases didn't make me go cross-eyed after a while.

What I wouldn't give for a cup of tea.

Just then, Tano returned to the study room we had commandeered and fell into the chair opposite me, groaning theatrically.

"How did your comm go?" I asked.

"Master Plo says the Temple investigation hasn't made much progress. There hasn't been a ransom demand or anything, so whoever it is probably means to do...something with Skyguy. Waiting for something, maybe. Whoever they are, they're hiding their tracks really well. I think you're right about them being Force-sensitive."

"Yes? I didn't realize that was in question."

Tano shrugged. "The Temple doesn't have all the evidence you have." She tapped her fingers on the table. "How _do_ you have so much information? Didn't you only start investigating this yesterday?"

"Well, if I don't move fast, unexpected developments occur," I said. "Like my client getting kidnapped."

"That's happened before?"

"Sure. There was a case about six years ago--not at all similar to this, except the kidnapping part. Perhaps I can tell you that story some other time." I stretched, and my back popped in at least three places. "Why, are you thinking of taking up investigation yourself?"

"Ugh, no. Not if it's just a lot of this. This is worse than studying for Intergalactic History." She picked up a datapad and started scrolling through it listlessly. "It doesn't feel like we're making a whole lot of progress, either."

"Unfortunately, this is how most investigations go. If you're not interviewing people or looking over crime scenes, you're in the archives tracking down records," I said. "You have to fight for every bit of information. Sometimes you get lucky. Sometimes you have a critical epiphany. But even then, you only get there by doing work the hard way. You've done phenomenally so far, Padawan Tano. I dare say we would not have made this much progress without your and Rex's skills."

Rex glanced up from his datapad and, upon realizing he was not being addressed directly, went back to his work.

"Is it really that much, though?" Tano asked, putting her datapad back down. "We've got a bunch of lists and some manifest reports about a forty-year-old droid, sure, but not like, a name or an address of where Skyguy is. Are we really going to find him with this stuff?"

That was, I supposed, the crux of the matter. All my little leads and suspicions and connections wouldn't mean anything unless we turned up results, whether that was Skywalker or Skywalker's body. We were also, unfortunately, under a fairly restrictive time limit, with no sense of exactly _how_ much time we had or what might happen if it ran out. Either way, it was probably safe to assume the longer we took, the worse it would be for Skywalker.

Padawan Tano looked tired, and the Force around her betrayed a sense of urgency and worry--not quite panic, not yet, but approaching it just beneath the surface. I didn't personally feel any urgency beyond a usual sense of deliberation, but I was used to working under time pressure, and it wasn't _my_ Master that was in danger. Even if Skywalker were a bad Master--and I had no evidence that Skywalker was anywhere as ill-suited as Master Jinn--he was the only Master that Tano had. If something happened to him, it would throw her entire future into question, to say nothing of any personal concerns she might have about him.

"I don't know if we'll find him. And we won't know, not until we do. I think our chances are good, but they're not absolute," I said. "I'm sorry I can't be more reassuring."

Tano sighed deeply. "I know. It's what I expected, just. I don't want to be useless. Skyguy's been kidnapped, Master Plo and his team can't find him, _you_ can't find him, and I'm just sitting here looking through tax reports."

"My dear Padawan," I said. "If Master Koon, all his Jedi, and I all cannot find Knight Skywalker, why do you believe the responsibility falls to you? You are a youngling, Padawan Tano, with the same skill set that we have, and you are already doing everything you can to help."

Tano's mouth twisted. "That's not...He's my Master, you know? We have an oath to each other. Loyalty and teaching each other and stuff. If I don't find him, then I'm not a very good Padawan, am I?"

I remembered, then, a different Padawan and a different Master trapped together in a mine in Bandomeer, with only a boulder and a bomb around the Padawan's neck between the Master and freedom. I should never have been in a situation to make that choice, much less to force it upon Master Jinn the way I had--it simply wasn't the responsibility of a Padawan to weigh lives against their own, not that I realized so until many years later. Afterwards, I had always wondered if there were others cut from the same cloth as me--not Padawans who would willingly sacrifice their lives when asked, but those who would sacrifice them without any thought at all.

I pulled my reading glasses off and looked Padawan Tano directly in the eyes. "Do you honestly believe it's a Padawan's duty to endanger themselves to protect their Master from circumstances this wildly out of their control?"

"I...no, but--"

"Then, Padawan Tano, what are you trying to prove?"

Tano met my gaze squarely, challenging me once again. She had a fiery gaze, and a stubbornness so fierce it made her brittle. The Force roiled in her, anger and worry and fear all churning together in turns. I could sense her trying to leash her feelings without success--nobody really did, at that age--but there was a focus to it, a desperate determination that burned through her more volatile emotions.

One day, she would become a force to be reckoned with, but on this day, she folded. She broke eye contact with almost violent abruptness and muttered something I couldn't hear.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked.

"I _said,_ I'm trying to prove I'm good enough!" Tano snapped. "Are you _happy_ now?"

"My happiness is hardly relevant to this conversation," I said.

"Then why do you _care_ so karking much, huh? What's your deal, Master Detective? You just like to interrogate Padawans or something? You don't know _anything_ about me!"

"I certainly would not claim to know everything about you, Padawan Tano, but I know what it's like to be a new apprentice trying to meet impossible standards," I said. "I was already assigned to AgriCorps before my Master reluctantly took me on, you know, and he was only there by some coincidence, or perhaps someone's meddling. I know what it's like to not be chosen. I know what it's like to have a Master who doesn't want me. I know what it's like to want to be good enough to _make_ him want me."

Tano crossed her arms and didn't look at me, but I could tell that my words had hit home.

"It didn't work out, obviously." I gestured broadly to my very not-Jedi self. "All of my training, all my studying, all the work and pain I went through on our missions, it wasn't enough. Maybe he did care; I don't know. But if he did, he didn't show it. Maybe it was a failure of resolve on my part, to not be satisfied with what I got, but we are all living beings. We can't help our emotional needs. I needed someone who would love me and raise me into the best Jedi I could be, and who I could love and serve as part of the Order. My Master was not that."

"Did..." Tano swallowed. "Did your Master repudiate you?"

I shook my head. "No. I left. I found something I believed was more important than being a Jedi Knight, and my Master had me choose between them. I gave him my lightsaber and he returned to the Temple without me. That is the last I ever saw of him."

Tano looked absolutely horrified. "He _left_ you?"

" _I_ left," I corrected. "He certainly could have argued more than not at all, or he could have bodily forced me to return to the Temple, or taken other actions to prevent my leaving, but I'm still the one who made the choice. Whether my Master's reticence was because he truly did not wish to keep me or he wanted to respect my decision, I can't say. It's not something I dwell on--I've been at peace with it for many years."

From Tano's indignant expression, she was not.

"The point I am trying to make by telling you this, Padawan Tano, is that you are not alone. And you _are_ enough. Not because of your skills or the things you can do for your Master, but because of _you._ Whether Knight Skywalker believes that, I can't say, but his expectations are not something you can control, and you will only hurt yourself if you try to be what _he_ needs to the exclusion of being what _you_ need. Teaching should be a two-way street."

"Oh," Tano said softly. "That's nice of you to say. You...don't have to."

"If I'm the first person to tell you you have immense worth beyond your utility to others, then I am sorry," I said. "I don't expect you to believe me that easily--only the Force knows how long it took me to believe it for myself--but if you can't believe that you have worth to your Master, if you can't believe that you have worth to yourself, then trust when I say that you have worth to me, and that worth is in being yourself."

Rex, who had likely put down his work back around the time Tano had started yelling, stepped to Tano's side and clapped her on the shoulder. "Me too, Commander. I don't know how your relationship is with the General, but the _vod_ and I are here for you."

Tano nodded. "Thanks, Rex. It's just a lot to live up to, you know? All down the lineage. Master Yoda's the Grandmaster of the Order, Master Dooku's evil but also the head of all the Separatists, Master Jinn's the Sithkiller, and Skyguy's the Chosen One. I mean, how do you follow up on that?"

"'Sithkiller'? The Sith aren't even--" I shook my head. "Never mind. Later. My dear Padawan, you really don't need to worry about that kind of thing now--none of your lineage made those achievements in the first year of their Padawanship. Not even in the first year of their Mastery. For now, all you should focus on is learning and improving and developing yourself as a person and a Padawan, and everything else will fall as the Force wills it. You're a Jedi--you have to trust in that much."

"Luminous beings we are," Tano recited.

I nodded. "You are one with the Force and the Force is with you. Have faith, Padawan Tano. We're doing everything we can to find your Master, yourself included. I know all this"--I gestured broadly to the stacks of datapads scattered over the table--"doesn't feel like much, but it's more important than you realize. I know I have not expressed incredible enthusiasm about Skywalker, but I take my duties very seriously and if I am capable of finding him, I _will._ I haven't survived this long by being bad at my job in my own city."

"Thank you." Tano smiled. "You know you don't have to call me 'Padawan Tano', right? You can call me Ahsoka."

"Do you want me to call you Ahsoka?"

"Uh. Yeah, I mean. We kind of spilled our guts to each other just now. If you can't call me by my first name after that, then what's the point? And I...I'd like to think we're friends, right?" She looked up at me, eyes earnest and fearful, as if I'd honestly reject her at this point.

"I think we could be friends," I said. "We've spent an entire afternoon looking over administrative records together, after all. If that doesn't count for some level of friendship, then we are in very dire straits indeed. You can use _my_ first name, if you want."

"Obi-Wan?" Ahsoka made a face. "That's weird. You're like...old. Old people don't get first names."

"I'm thirty-five, not _ancient,_ Ahsoka. If you prefer using a title, 'Detective' will suffice. As Rex can tell you." I got out of my seat and checked my chrono--it was nearly 2000. "Now, I believe we should clean up after ourselves before public visiting hours end. Our departure will be much less comfortable if they have to throw us out on our ears. We can continue our search from the files we've copied elsewhere."

Ahsoka swiped her palms across her eyes, then nodded. "Sure thing, Detective Obi-Wan. I know I'm ready to get out of here."

We gathered the datapads and the spoils of our research. It was quick work--all the time spent researching had likely made them both exceptionally restless. Clean-up finished, we departed.

It was full night when we exited, the Senate district alive with thick crowds of any number of species navigating the pedestrian walks and constellations of yellow lights shining through the pollutant haze--a much more orderly, if no less energetic awakening than the undercity's night life. In the distance, I could see the enormous silhouette of the Jedi Temple, a nearly black shape against the illuminated city. The Force buzzed around me, swelling as it always did when the sun went down, and I breathed the frenetic energy into my lungs and veins. After being shut up in the Hall of Records so long, it was refreshing to feel people all around me again.

"I'm hungry," Ahsoka said.

"All right," I said, patting her on the shoulder. "Food first, then we'll find a place to go over what we've collected."

For now, Skywalker remained out of reach, but we were getting steadily closer. I wondered if it would be enough.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan has a fun conversation about his past.

Somehow, half an hour later, the three of us ended up in my apartment with overflowing boxes of spicy takeaway. Neither Ahsoka nor Rex commented on the small size of my apartment, but then again, they had probably spent most of their lives living in places just as small. I remembered the Initiate dorms being quite cramped, and I couldn't imagine Rex ever getting something as luxurious as an individual room if the Republic refused to do the minimum of granting their soldiers citizenship, retirement, and the right to _not_ get 'decommissioned' for failing to meet standards.

It was frankly disgusting, but there was also nothing I could do about it at the moment except treat Rex with the dignity he deserved.

I set our dinner down and brought over some plates. I didn't _entirely_ understand the thought process of why we were all at my apartment, except that I had refused to go to the Jedi Temple and Ahsoka was very stubborn about sticking with me, like she thought I would disappear if I went out of her line of sight for too long. If I were averse to having people sleep in my apartment, I probably could have forced the issue, but I'd had Maul over the previous night, and he had literally tried to kill me. Ahsoka and Rex were hardly difficult to accommodate in comparison.

Ahsoka and Rex helped themselves to the only two chairs I owned while I sat on a storage box and we ate at my tea tray-sized dining table. If my companions had any comments about how poorly suited my living space was to entertaining guests, they politely refrained from making them.

"So," Ahsoka said, about halfway through dinner. "Detective Obi-Wan, are you Force-sensitive?"

"Considering what I've told you about my past, I would think the answer rather obvious," I said.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes dramatically. "It was a yes or no question. But fine, okay. So you're Force-sensitive. Why don't you feel Force-sensitive?" She popped a piece of grilled meat into her mouth. "You know. If that's like, a thing you can talk about."

Well. It would probably be a little while before Ahsoka learned tact--especially considering her Master--but at least she was trying.

"My connection to the greater unifying Force has been severed, in a manner of speaking," I said. "I can't use the Force externally anymore."

Ahsoka nearly dropped her fork. "What? How does that happen? How are you _alive?_ "

"I'm not sure how it happened, exactly. It's simply..." I rubbed my chin, thinking of the best way to explain it. "Ahsoka. Is it difficult for you, on the war front?"

"Huh? Don't change the subject."

"I'm not. Bear with me for a minute. How does it feel to be on the war front, surrounded by death and pain? How does it feel when your friends and charges are extinguished, and you have no way to save them?"

Rex's gaze snapped sharply upwards. "Detective--"

I held up my hand. "It was rhetorical. You don't have to answer, Ahsoka. But when I was your age, I was in a civil war. I lived three and a half years on the war front, trying to keep my friends--other younglings--from getting killed. I often failed. We didn't have ships to retreat to or a Republic to feed and shelter us, and there were very few times in those years when we were ever truly safe."

"But you--where was your Master?" Ahsoka asked.

I smiled grimly. "Dear Padawan, back in those days, Jedi didn't fight wars."

Ahsoka, quick on the uptake as ever, connected the dots almost immediately. It was Rex, however, who spoke. "Your commanding officer left a fourteen-year-old alone in an _active war zone?_ "

"Thirteen."

"What?" Rex said.

"I was thirteen when I left," I said evenly, as I always did when speaking of my past these days. "The circumstances of my leaving the Jedi Order aren't relevant to the topic at hand, except that I was young and locked in a war zone with no Jedi support for quite some time." I looked directly at Ahsoka. "It's not an experience I would wish upon anyone."

Ahsoka spluttered. "I--That's not--"

"I understand our experiences are not equivalent, but a war is a war, and you are still only fourteen. I'm sure you're strong enough to bear it," I said. "Younglings are often very resilient and adaptable to things like that, but you shouldn't have to be. You likely won't realize quite how horrific it is to have your younger years subsumed by war until it's long over, assuming you survive to the end.

"War will change you, Ahsoka. In some ways for the better, but in many ways for the worse." I waved my hand aside. "But that's not the topic of discussion. You asked why I no longer have my connection to the Force. Well, when I was younger, I was not exceptional in using the Force, but I heard it acutely. I used to receive visions frequently, and I was sensitive to the emotions of those around me. These are useful skills to have as a Jedi, but debilitating ones to have as a soldier."

Rex looked like he might be sick.

"Our war wasn't against droids--it was against people. The parents and grandparents of our own forces, more often than not. Everyone was scared of what was to come, and often too entrenched in the fighting to remember what they were fighting _for,_ much less how to live without the death and violence. My Force-sensitivity made my experience there...taxing. More people died in those three years than I care to remember--many of them at my own hand--and I felt them all."

"So you cut yourself off from the Force?" Ahsoka asked, horrified. For a Jedi, my current condition was probably the worst thing anyone could imagine.

"It wasn't my intention," I explained. "Lacking the training to properly shield myself against something of that magnitude, I tried desperately to block off my connection to the Force, just to keep the war from invading my mind and my dreams the way it had taken over my life. It worked, sometimes, and it was the only thing I could do for a very long time. I don't remember the exact process, but after about a year, perhaps the Force took my wishes to heart, and cut me off from its greater self."

I remembered how it felt, even after all this time. I used to feel the Force in every breath and in the spaces between heartbeats, like the universe's pulse right beneath my sternum, so close to my own heart that I couldn't separate the two. It was my connection to reality and life and all the people I loved and lost, like an oxygen line towing me behind a space station, secure and unbreakable, or so I'd taken for granted.

Like a thunderclap of sound and pressure, the Force tore free and I was sent careening off alone into the void of endless space, filled with a deafening silence that stole away the heartbeat I'd thought my own and the voices of an entire galaxy, far past any hope of recovery. For the first time in my life, I became truly alone. I don't think I ever completely recovered--I still have nightmares about it sometimes.

It hurt. I won't lie about that. It felt like someone had reached through my chest and ripped me open, leaving me raw and bleeding dry until there was nothing left but a hollow ache. That first month without the Force was the worst of it--I was blind and deaf in its sudden absence, plunged into darkness and silence without even the Force's guidance at my back to steer me true, and even trying to reach for it was painful enough to make me black out. I know I nearly died. I don't even remember why I didn't, except that I've always been stubborn about staying alive.

The entire time I was in Melida/Daan, I thought I'd lost the Force completely. It wasn't until Jedha that I learned to feel the gossamer threads of the Force still woven through my flesh and to read the invisible currents as it flowed through everything, which helped. It didn't make everything better--I still felt the ache now, when I was alone in my mind and Coruscant's noise wasn't enough to fill it--but for now, I managed it.

Ahsoka frowned. "So you can't hear it at _all?_ "

"No, but dear Padawan, you don't have to hear the Force to have it be part of your life." I pressed a hand over my heart. "I can't hear its guidance anymore, and that doesn't mean it isn't there. The Force has not abandoned me. It's within my body and my soul, and I can still sense its currents wherever I go, if differently than the Jedi do. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me."

Rex picked at his dinner slowly. "You're...very calm about all of this, Detective."

"I won't pretend to like it, but I've had time to come to terms with it. And I had quite a lot of help," I said. "I'm not really capable of shielding or bonding anymore the way Jedi do, so if I'm not careful, I'm wide open to everything around me. If I can't control my emotions or properly ground myself, they spiral rapidly and create feedback loops--Ahsoka can tell you about those. I had a lot of difficulties in my teenage years because of it, but I'm nothing if not adaptable."

"You shouldn't have had to do that," Ahsoka cut in.

"No," I agreed. "I shouldn't have, and I wouldn't recommend the experience. But I needed to, and I did. I wouldn't say I prefer to live this way, but I don't regret that all my life experiences have brought me to where I am now. And that's all I have to say on that subject." I twirled my fork between my fingers and speared a slice of grilled fruit on it. "Moving on from that uncomfortable dinner topic to a _different_ uncomfortable dinner topic, I wanted to ask: why is Master Jinn known as the Sithkiller? The Sith have been extinct for over a thousand years, correct?"

"Uh, not correct," Ahsoka said. "Turns out they're back. Like ten years ago, Master Jinn encountered and killed one. It was a huge story in the Temple at the time. Tons of rumors, at least--Master Jinn didn't really like to talk about it. Or that's what Master Plo said, anyways. I was like, four."

I could imagine not. Master Jinn was many things, prideful among them, but he found boasting reproachful and unbecoming of a Jedi. If he really had killed a Sith, then he would have treated it as a matter of course and not the monumental event it actually was.

"You said this was ten years ago? I didn't hear anything about the Sith returning."

Ahsoka nodded. "I mean, I don't know if anyone really believed it then, because I didn't hear about that Sith stuff until Master Dooku went to the Sith and started the war. Master Plo said that was basically the point the High Council had to accept Master Jinn really fought a Sith."

"I suppose he felt vindicated," I said, though I didn't blame the Council for being incredulous of encountering a long, _long_ dead ancient evil. I certainly found the idea of the Sith being alive and present difficult to stomach myself, much less a previously well-regarded Jedi Master such as Dooku becoming one. As if typical run-of-the-mill Darksiders weren't bad enough. "Do you know when exactly this event occurred? Surely there was a mission report about it."

"Um," Ahsoka said, screwing up her face in concentration. "I think it was a mission in Naboo. It might be restricted access, though. Since the Order wanted to keep the Sith thing on the down-low and all that. I could try searching it? There can't have been _that_ many missions to Naboo that happened ten years ago."

Naboo again. I was starting to get sick of hearing about it. Everything--Skywalker and Amidala, Chancellor Palpatine, and now this Sith business--seemed connected to Naboo. It all seemed so disparate that they couldn't possibly be related, but there was a deep sense of unease in my stomach that it couldn't all be coincidental, either.

I needed to read that mission report.

"If you could, I'd appreciate it," I said.

Ahsoka nodded and pulled out her datapad, which handily ended that conversation. I finished eating what I could, then pushed out my box, got up, and put the leftovers away. Rex obligingly helped wash the dishes while Ahsoka kept working on her datapad.

"I'm going to get out of work clothes," I said. "I realize you two didn't bring an overnight bag or anything, but I have some clothes that might fit you, Soldier, and I'm sure I've got a long tunic that I can tie back if you want it, Ahsoka."

Ahsoka was too busy tapping away at her datapad to respond, while Rex looked down at his armor with an expression like he hadn't even realized he could take it off. I supposed the Republic soldiers didn't spend much time out of armor--I never saw them out of it in the news coverage. I hoped they didn't have to sleep in it; that sounded horribly uncomfortable.

"You don't have to, Detective," Rex said. "It's not as if you knew we'd come over tonight."

"No, but I have the clothes if you'd like to wear them. I assume you have something on under your armor, or it would chafe horribly, but something looser fitting might be more comfortable? It'll have to be loose--you're broader and shorter than me, so you'll probably only be able to wear my larger things."

"You don't have anything from Jango?" Rex asked, then went red in the face. "Not that I'd presume to--to wear his clothes, or..."

"Jango and I parted ways before I returned to Coruscant," I replied. "And even if we hadn't, he'd never live in a place like this. Small spaces brought up bad memories for him, and he always said he wanted a garden besides."

"Oh," Rex said. "I see?"

I pulled out a few pieces of clothing and held them out to Rex. "Here. Take a look at these while I change. If you don't like them, you can help yourself to something in my wardrobe--I'm sure you'll like at least one thing."

Mutely, Rex accepted the clothes, and I went into the fresher.

As always, the lights were over-bright and of a color that made everything look pallid and the tile floor was cold beneath my feet. It smelled slightly of a soap I didn't use--probably still left over from Maul that morning.

It was 2110 then, but it felt a lot later--spending a day in the Hall of Records did something terrible to my sense of time, and even I had a limit to how many documents I could manage at once.

I stripped off my gloves and ran through my daily arm stretches. I needed them to keep my range of motion mostly normal; I'd gotten quite thoroughly stabbed in the right shoulder with a lightsaber thirteen years back, and I still had enough of my upper forearm to twist my mechanical wrist naturally. I would never have full mobility in my right hand--my prosthesis was a modified Jedha design, exceptionally robust and durable at the cost of simplicity. It had no dermal covering and the wrist, especially, had limited range of motion--it was practically a hinge joint, allowing no deviation to speak of. The limited fine motor ability meant I couldn't do things like write, but that wasn't such a big deal. After four years with no right hand at all, I'd gotten good at doing everything I needed to with just the left. As long as I kept doing my exercises, I could manage everything I needed to. Jango had thoroughly enforced the habit during our time together--one of his favorite moves when we sparred was going after my weak right side, which was pretty funny for him up until I got fast enough to slam him to the mat.

Come to think of it, he probably thought it was funny after that, too.

Stretches completed, I washed my face in the sink using my flesh hand, and examined my reflection.

There were dark shadows under my eyes, and a pinched look in my cheeks that came from a lot more than two days' hardships--I guess there was no question why people kept trying to feed me. I wasn't sick or anything, but I might be headed there at this rate. I wondered if my decline had something to do with the war. I knew I wasn't getting as much sleep as I liked since it started, even without considering certain impolite clients. Something to think about after all of this, perhaps.

I pulled my hair down and let it cascade all down my back, just past my waist. It was only vanity that kept it so long for so long, a remnant of defiance against a life where I couldn't choose how to wear my hair or my clothes, and a lingering curiosity of how long my Padawan braid would have been, had I stayed at the Temple. I'd kept braiding my hair, when I'd first stayed on Melida/Daan, partially out of habit and mostly out of sentiment. Back then, I had still believed myself a Jedi, even without the Order. I kept wearing the braid, tucked into my nerf tail, all the way up until I lost my right hand, and with it the ability to braid my hair. After that, my options were to get someone to help me or cut it off. I chose the latter. I remembered thinking, as I took a vibroblade to the thin plait and smelled it burning, that perhaps the war could be something analogous to my Trials. That the severing of the braid was, in my new life as in my old one, a transition from one stage of my development to the next.

Well, I lost my connection to the greater unifying Force not two weeks later, so I was right about that. I gave my braid--only a pitiful nine inches long--to one of my friends, and I think that was when I really knew Master Jinn wasn't coming back.

I buried Ries with that braid still tied around her wrist, less than six months later. I didn't like to think about it.

Sighing, I closed my eyes and let my senses out into the Force, letting its noise fill me and drown out my thoughts and memories. It was a paradoxical peace--a silence only found in noise, serenity only found in chaos. I breathed in the Force, tracing its strength through my bones and flesh and blood as my emotions bled away, and centered myself within the sea of voices.

Obi-Wan Kenobi. A man who would not act out of anger because I had chosen, again and again, to let it go. A man with kindness too brittle and too little to help everyone, but just enough to help a few. A good enough man to do a few, very bad things, and just bad enough to not regret it.

No more. No less.

I opened my eyes and for a moment, everything seemed to glow in the Force, a faint halo of soft colors clinging to my skin before fading back into normal fluorescent light. There was a vibration just beneath my skin, of the Force thrumming through me. It seemed to have something to say, but I didn't know what.

I changed my clothes and exited the fresher.

Rex was waiting there, clothes tucked under his arm. He had already stripped off some of his armor, mainly his boots and bracers. He stared at me as I walked out, his gaze flicking from my face to my obviously mechanical right hand.

"Oh," he said. "You..."

"Apologies for taking so long," I said. "You can use the fresher now. Feel free to shower. Toiletries are on the shelf."

Rex's mouth snapped shut and he fired off a sharp salute, face red with eyes still surprise-wide. He went into the fresher like a man on a mission and closed the door behind him.

It was weird to see a flustered expression like that on Jango's face--he'd been such a put-together man when I'd known him, but I could hardly expect his clones to have the same temperament. For all that their bodies might be the same, their lives were very much not.

Still, Rex was projecting embarrassment so hard that I could feel it from outside the fresher, and I didn't really see why. Maybe it was something I'd said.

Well, if it was important, he could tell me about it later.

I tossed my clothes in the washer and sat down next to Ahsoka. "How's the search coming along?"

"Yeah," Ahsoka said, "I found the mission report--getting remote access to the Temple sucks, by the way--but it's locked. I've been trying to slice it, but with the whole remote access thing, it's not--" She looked up at me then made a sort of choking sound. "You--your hair! It's _long!_ "

"Yes? I see your powers of observation have not diminished in the last fifteen minutes." I leaned over to look at her datapad and found it to be full of windows that I knew nothing about. Slicing applications, I supposed. I'd never been particularly good at slicing myself. "You were saying something about accessing the mission report?"

"Your hair's so long!" Ahsoka said. "And it's wavy! It's really pretty, Detective, why don't you wear it down?"

"Of course it's wavy. I'm always wearing it up. Leaving my hair down in public is uncivilized, not to mention an occupational hazard," I said. "You said the mission was access restricted. What level of restriction was it?"

"Uh, level two clearance or something. High Council, basically," Ahsoka said. "Can I braid your hair?"

"What? Why?"

"Because it would be fun?" Ahsoka asked. "Please? None of my other friends have hair as long or as nice as yours."

Force bless the misguided determination of a youngling. I supposed I should have expected nothing else--Ahsoka might be great at research and determined beyond reason, but she was still _fourteen._ It wasn't a crime for her to want to do something that wasn't work, even when her Master was missing.

I sighed. She was making pleading eyes at me and I wasn't heartless. I couldn't tell her no. "Fine, you can braid my hair, but not at the dining table. We can go sit on the bed or something."

Ahsoka threw her hands into the air and pushed herself out of her seat. "Yes! You're gonna look _so_ good, Detective, I promise."

"Great," I said. 

"I just need a hairbrush and--uh." She stopped by my bed. "Detective. There's, um, blood on your bed."

I sighed. Right. I hadn't had time to change the sheets this morning.

"Yeah," I said. "I had an injured guest yesterday. Let me clean up, and then we can figure out how to get into that mission file."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Rex exited the fresher to find Ahsoka and I on the bed, with Ahsoka braiding my hair.

He stopped dead in the fresher door.

"Hello, Soldier," I said. "Are the clothes to your taste?"

"Um," Rex said, glancing down at the ensemble he was wearing--a blue draped tunic and black sleep pants that were just short enough to not trail on the ground. They were good colors for him. "Yes, it's very comfortable. Sir."

"There's no need to stand on formality, Soldier," I said. "I'm glad you approve. They fit you better than I had hoped."

Rex coughed into his fist, his earlier embarrassment returning with a vengeance. "Um. Thank you."

I gestured to the empty space on my bed. "Come sit with us. We're trying to break into the Jedi missions archive to gain access to a heavily restricted file. An exciting bit of illegal nighttime activity, I'm sure you can agree."

Rex opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. His face had gone so red that I wondered if he might faint.

Ahsoka punched me in the shoulder. "Don't tease him. That's not nice."

"You have to admit it's cute," I told her. "I could never get Jango to make that face, even when I--"

Ahsoka punched me again, harder this time. "Too much information! Too much information! I don't want to know that!"

"--threw him into a lake at an Outer Rim festival. Why, what did you think I was going to say?" I asked.

Ahsoka said something impolite and yanked my hair just hard enough to sting.

"All right, all right," I said, holding up my hands in surrender. "I won't tease the good soldier." I looked over to Rex. "I was serious, though. Sit wherever you like, up here with us or pull up a chair if you prefer. I really want to read this mission file, but it's extremely restricted access, so my usual bypasses don't work. You can see what my problem is."

Rex obligingly grabbed a chair and sat down across from us. "What's in the mission file, Detective?"

"I don't know yet--that's why I'd like to read it," I said. "In brief, it's a mission report from Naboo, about eleven years ago, by Master Jinn. It's the mission where he found young Skywalker, apparently killed a Sith, and where Skywalker met then-Queen Amidala. It also coincides with then-Senator Palpatine's election to Supreme Chancellor."

"That's...a lot."

"Indeed. There may be some other surprises, which is why I'd like to read it for myself. The problem is this." I held out the datapad for Rex to see.

"'Restricted Access Level 2'," he read. "I'm assuming that's high restriction?"

I nodded. "High Council members only, effectively. Even the abstract is not publicly available."

"If that's Level 2, then what's Level 1?" Rex asked.

"High Council members only, but even more," Ahsoka said. "Super read-only kind of stuff, even the original author of the report can't access it anymore. I've never heard of anything being classified as Level 1, though."

"It would defeat the purpose if you did," I said. I scrolled through the datapad again, turning over an idea. "Ahsoka, could you navigate this back to the credentials login?"

Ahsoka took the datapad from me. "Yeah, that's easy. Why?"

"Well, there's a saying that the easiest way to break into something is with the key," I said.

"Right, but you don't have High Council codes, do you?" She handed the datapad back to me.

"Unfortunately not." I fumbled to get the datapad back into place--my mechanical wrist made it hard to hold a non-modified datapad at the appropriate viewing angle--and typed in a set of credentials. "But I'm hoping I might have Master Jinn's."

"What?" Ahsoka asked. "Why would you--"

I typed in Master Tahl's birthday and favorite flower and was granted access with a cheery _ping._ Amazing.

Ahsoka yanked my hair, pulling me back. "Holy shit, you got in--"

"Ahsoka, that's my _hair,_ not a leash--"

She let me go. "How the kriff did you know Master Jinn's passcode?"

"Because he hasn't changed it in over twenty years, apparently," I said, rubbing the back of my head. When Ahsoka's shock still didn't subside, I said, "Come now, dear Ahsoka. It's practically tradition for Padawans to steal their Master's codes."

"You--your Master was _Master Jinn?_ " Ahsoka nearly shouted. " _Master Jinn_ left you in the middle of a civil war and _never went back for you?_ Why didn't you say that?"

"Ahsoka, _please._ Indoor voice. I didn't disclose his identity specifically because I didn't want to poison your opinion against him," I said. "He's a good Jedi, all told. And he managed to raise Skywalker to Knighthood, somehow. It's not fair to judge him for something he did over twenty years ago."

"But you said--you said he didn't love you! He didn't care about you!"

"I said he didn't _show_ he cared about me," I said. "That doesn't mean he's incapable of it--presumably he cares quite a lot about Skywalker."

"Yeah? But Skyguy's the _Chosen One,_ " Ahsoka protested. "Anyone would care about him."

That thought had occurred to me. I didn't have great confidence in Master Jinn's tutelage, based on the year I spent with him, but he had apparently raised a Knight that the Council approved of and hadn't Fallen--worryingly close, perhaps, but definitely not Fallen. Considering Knight Skywalker's anger and attachment issues, Master Jinn probably showed _some_ level of care, or Skywalker would likely have run off or done something even more rash than I had. I once heard Master Jinn had doted quite extensively on Xanatos, so maybe between Xanatos's apprenticeship and mine, Master Jinn had figured out some kind of balance.

I didn't have much faith in that, but it was _possible_.

I sighed. "That's all in the past, dear Padawan. The important thing is we now have access to the mission report. Let me read it, if you don't mind."

Ahsoka scoffed, but left me to it.

I pulled open the mission report with no small amount of dread. I had a bad feeling about it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan makes a few uncomfortable realizations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a good time to reiterate that I haven't actually read any of the novels and I refuse to look anything up, so if I've gotten timeline stuff or other specifics wrong, then that's rough, buddy!

It conspired that Master Jinn's skill at writing reports had not advanced since my apprenticeship. Being thirteen at the time, I had not read many of his reports. I had, however, been with him while _presenting_ after-mission details to the High Council, and I had heard a lot of repeated complaints, mainly that Master Jinn's written reports were inconsistent, lacking in detail and focus, and constantly tardy, if not incomplete altogether.

The Naboo report--or _reports,_ since there were two--was very far from what anyone, except perhaps Master Jinn himself, would consider comprehensive. The timing of events, for instance, was only vaguely reported, as were the details of any actual proceedings. Even when Master Jinn deigned to report what had occurred, he did so in terse detail, only summarizing the results and in no way elaborating on the developments leading up to them. Auditing his missions must have been an absolute nightmare.

Not for the first time, I felt sympathy for the Jedi Order for having to deal with him.

In any case, a careful review of the generous six total paragraphs Master Jinn had so magnanimously written for his first report revealed that things went to shit pretty fast after showing up to Naboo. Apparently, Master Jinn had to escape with the Queen and her entourage on a damaged ship and make an emergency stop at Tatooine, which is where Master Jinn went on for an unprecedented paragraph and a half about finding the Chosen One of some prophecy I'd never heard of. There was a suspicious lack of detail on how, exactly, Master Jinn got the ship repaired again and how he ended up bringing nine-year-old Anakin Skywalker to Coruscant with him, but there _was_ a solid half-paragraph about how he encountered and fought a Sith on Tatooine, with an emphasis on the Sith's strength in the Dark Side and skill with a lightstaff, and not any actually useful information such as what the Sith _looked_ like.

The second report was even pithier. Four paragraphs total, and only two sentences devoted to the Sith: _"Upon sensing the Dark Side from the Sith, I pursued it further into the Palace and, after a great struggle, killed it. After the battle, I retrieved its corrupted lightstaff."_

That was it.

I didn't understand why the Council had bothered to restrict access to the mission report. There was nothing of value to _learn_ from it except, perhaps, of the existence of Skywalker the alleged Chosen One, and the supposed return of the Sith. Judging from how Ahsoka talked about it, that knowledge was hardly secret, especially considering how fast gossip could travel within the Temple.

I rubbed my chin, deep in thought. Master Jinn's awful report had been largely useless, but not _entirely_ so. Interestingly, the Sith was first sighted on Tatooine, of all places. What business would a Sith have on a planet that was notable only for crime, slavery, and inhospitable weather, if not for the boy with unprecedented strength in the Force? Then, after Master Jinn took Skywalker from Tatooine and subsequently brought him to Naboo, the Sith confronted them a second time. Following Master Jinn, or young Skywalker?

The facts were these: The kidnapper was a Force-sensitive wearing black, who knew about Skywalker's relationship with Senator Amidala. Skywalker and Amidala met on Tatooine, where the Sith was first sighted, then eleven years later the two of them ended up on Geonosis for the start of the war, where Dooku, a known Sith, was present. Two sightings did not a relationship make, but it was enough to rouse suspicion, and Skywalker was demonstrably terrible at keeping his affections secret. After Skywalker's kidnapping, there had been no ransom and no body, but a medical procedure involving a spinal surgery, likely to paralyze him or implant a device--either case would be physically or mentally damaging. Furthermore, Skywalker was a General of some significance in the Republic Army, while Count Dooku led the Separatists and had a personal connection to Master Jinn, who had brought Skywalker to the Temple and introduced him to the Order as a Chosen One of prophecy...

Were the Sith trying to make Skywalker Fall?

The thought was horrific but unfortunately plausible. There was no way the Sith didn't know about the whole Chosen One business by now, and Knight Skywalker had already been teetering on the edge of the Dark Side when I had first met him, his anger unchained and volatile like an unstable explosive. How hard could it be to push him over the edge when he was already perfectly ready to kill someone over vague threats to his lover? I tried to imagine it, juxtaposing Xanatos's vicious expression onto Skywalker's face, and found it incredibly easy to do so--Skywalker was already so close that it wouldn't take much to push him from rage into cruelty and give in to that endless torrent of anger within him. If the Sith could secure Skywalker's loyalty, his Fall to the Dark Side combined with the raw power he already carried would be disastrous for both the Jedi and the war. Maybe even the Republic itself.

The motive fit, but the execution still _didn't._ It was safe to assume the kidnapper was not Dooku himself but something like a servant or apprentice, but that couldn't explain how the Chancellor was involved in all of this, nor how this alleged apprentice had garnered Skywalker's trust long enough to knock him out and subject him to involuntary medical procedures.

I navigated out of the mission records and into the personnel records to search former Master Dooku and found that he had left the Jedi Order _after_ the mission to Naboo. If this whole matter really did tie into the events of eleven years ago, it was impossible for Dooku to be behind it, unless he was an undercover Sith right under the Jedi Order's nose the whole time, which I preferred to believe was not the case-- _someone_ should have noticed. None of this made sense unless there was _another_ Sith somewhere or my conclusions were fundamentally flawed. Possibly both.

The Force vibrated beneath my skin, and I could feel myself coming closer to the right answer, but not _quite._ I was still missing something. Something big.

I felt a hand on my knee and blinked. Jango's face swam into view, and his voice said something from very far away. I shook my head to clear it, only to feel something tugging at my hair--

"--okay, Detective?" Jango said.

"What do you--" I blinked, and the world snapped back into focus with a rush of noise. I was in my apartment, on my bed. Jango--no, Rex--was in front of me, eyebrows drawn together. "Rex. What do you need?"

"You spaced out pretty hard, and you had this look in your eyes that was, um." Rex grimaced. "I tried asking what you found, but you didn't react, so, uh. Are you okay, Detective?"

I tried to nod, only to have Ahsoka pull on my hair again. "Yes, I'm fine. Deep in thought, that's all. What is Ahsoka doing to my hair? It's been..."--I glanced at the wall chrono--"forty minutes now. Surely it doesn't take that long to braid someone's hair?"

"You've got a lot of hair," Ahsoka said, sounding as if she was holding something in her teeth. "You're gonna be real impressed, I promise."

"It looks nice so far," Rex said. "I didn't know the Commander could braid hair."

"I got a lot of practice in the crèche," Ahsoka replied. "It's fun, especially when there's this much to work with."

I sighed. "Well, I'm glad you're happy. Soldier, what did you need?"

"Did you learn anything from the mission file?"

"I found out the Sith might be involved in this kidnapping, and that they might be trying to make Skywalker Fall to the Dark Side," I said. "It's only conjecture, but plausible enough to be a real concern."

Ahsoka jerked on my hair again. "What? Skyguy wouldn't go to the Dark Side!"

I had my doubts about that, but I said, "I didn't say he _would,_ I just said his kidnapper might be _trying._ At the very least, the longer we don't find him, the worse off he'll be."

"You think they're _torturing_ him."

"Well, he's been kidnapped and no ransom demands were made, nor have we found his body. Torture, whether to push him to the Dark Side or to try and extract information, seems like a distinct possibility."

"We have to tell Master Plo!"

I shrugged. "You can if you want. He's likely come to the same conclusion that I have about torture, and my ideas about the Sith are only ideas at this point. I've no proof they're involved except that the kidnapper is Force-sensitive and that the Sith would probably be extremely happy if the Chosen One were to join their ranks. Alerting Master Plo to the possibility of Sith involvement can't hurt, though."

"Yeah," Ahsoka said. She made a couple of final tugs on my hair. "You're all set now. Let me go comm--"

Just then, Ahsoka's commlink went off.

Rex raised an eyebrow. "That's convenient timing."

"It's not Master Plo's comm code. I don't know this one," Ahsoka said. She looked at her commlink as if it might bite her, then carefully opened the transmission. "Hello?"

A blue hologram flickered to life of a long-haired Jedi human man. _"Grandpadawan? I returned to the Temple as soon as I could. Where are you?"_

I pressed my eyes shut. I hadn't heard _that_ voice in a long time. I probably would have been happy to never hear it again.

"M-Master Jinn?" Ahsoka asked.

Rex shot me a look.

_"Ahsoka. Where are you right now? I couldn't find you in Anakin's quarters and nobody's seen you since early this afternoon. The only thing Master Plo could tell me was you were looking through Archives."_

"I..." She looked over to me, and I shrugged. I didn't really care what she told Master Jinn. "I'm in the city."

_"What? Your Master's been kidnapped and you snuck out into the city? It's not safe out there, Ahsoka!"_

"I didn't _sneak out!_ I'm fine! Rex is with me!" Ahsoka said. "I'm not like, wandering around the undercity, I'm staying with a friend!"

_"A friend? You don't have friends in the city."_

Ahsoka bristled. "How the kriff would you know that? It's not like you ever spend any time with me! But of course if Skyguy's in trouble, you hop on a ship right away and come back to the Temple!"

 _"Ahsoka,"_ Master Jinn said, much in the same disappointed tone he had once used to say, 'Obi-Wan.' _"Now is not the time for this. I am worried about you. Come back to the Temple. If someone has attacked your Master, you're not safe. Where are you? I can come retrieve you."_

"I'm not coming back to the Temple! I'm looking for Master Skywalker!"

_"I thought you said you were staying with a friend?"_

"Yeah! We've been looking for Skyguy together, looking through documents and stuff. You know, investigating."

 _"I see."_ Master Jinn slipped his hands into the sleeves of his robe, a painfully familiar gesture. _"And would I know who this friend of yours is?"_

"Yeah, actually," Ahsoka said. "Seeing as you abandoned him in the middle of a civil war."

I sighed. "Ahsoka."

Master Jinn looked genuinely confused. _"Ahsoka, what are you talking about? I assure you, I do not regularly...leave people in the middle of wars."_

"What, are you saying I'm wrong?" Ahsoka snapped. "Are you saying you _didn't_ leave Detective Obi-Wan on a battlefield and never went back for him?"

Master Jinn went very still. _"Obi-Wan?"_

I put my hand on Ahsoka's arm. "Ahsoka, this really isn't the time--"

She shook me off. "Yes, it is! Master Jinn betrayed you! He didn't even _care_ about you! You--you lost your hand! You can't even use--"

"Ahsoka, please."

 _"Ahsoka,"_ Master Jinn said, his voice urgent. _"Get away from there immediately. Obi-Wan is dangerous. Whatever he's told you, it's not the truth."_

I sighed. My feelings towards Master Jinn were firmly ambivalent, but I certainly didn't appreciate him acting like I was a villain in whatever narrative he'd fabricated.

I held out my hand. "Ahsoka. Let me talk to him."

She scowled at the hologram of Master Jinn, then handed over the commlink so I would be in view of the holoreader.

Master Jinn's face went pale. _"Obi-Wan."_

Now at the correct viewing angle, I could see Master Jinn clearly. He was much as I remembered. There were more lines on his face than there had been before, and his hair, still worn long and loose, had streaks of what I assumed was gray in it. He was older, as expected, but not like he had aged twenty years--he certainly didn't look at all to be suffering from the passage of time. Perhaps being a Master of the Living Force helped preserve youth and health. I wouldn't know.

"Hello, Master Jinn," I said. "I see the past twenty years have treated you well."

 _"What is the meaning of this, Obi-Wan?"_ Master Jinn asked. _"You've returned after all this time to...kidnap my apprentice, and now you've kidnapped my Grandpadawan as well?"_

"Okay. I take back what I said about your age--clearly, time has not been kind to your hearing. Ahsoka clearly told you we were _looking_ for Skywalker, Master Jinn. If I knew where he was, we would probably all be happier right now. And I've hardly kidnapped Ahsoka--she can leave any time she wants."

 _"You've turned her against me with your lies,"_ Master Jinn shot back.

"Lies? What lies? _I_ wasn't the one who came back from Melida/Daan without my Padawan and only the explanation that the Jedi Code was too much for him, Master Jinn. Everything I've told Ahsoka is true. I _did_ leave the Order. I _did_ fight a war for three and a half years. And you _did_ never come back for me. Despite what you seem to think, I don't hate you for it, nor would I ask Ahsoka to do so on my behalf, but she's smart enough to come to her own conclusions," I said. "From what I've heard, you don't spend much time with her to begin with, so there's hardly much of a relationship for me to subvert, if I were trying to do so."

_"Leave Ahsoka out of this, Obi-Wan. Your quarrel is with me."_

I frowned. "Quarrel? What are you talking about?"

Master Jinn's voice went steely. _"Do you really expect me to believe you haven't returned to take revenge?"_

"Master Jinn, I don't know how to tell you this, but the galaxy doesn't revolve around you. I've been in Coruscant for ten years and I came back because it's my _home,_ not because I wanted to murder your Padawan or something. Two days ago, I didn't know you had a Padawan _or_ Grandpadawan."

Master Jinn sighed. _"Obi-Wan. I don't know how you survived, but it doesn't have to be like this."_

One sentence, and suddenly I felt deep-freeze cold. It was one thing to get left behind on a war-torn planet without so much as a backwards glance, but another thing entirely to learn Master Jinn had left me, a thirteen-year-old, to _die._ "Master Jinn, if you cared so much, perhaps you should have come back for me. Or would that bruise your ego too much, to admit you made a mistake?"

 _"I would have!"_ Master Jinn shouted in a very un-Jedi-like display of emotion. _"If I had known you were alive, I would have searched the entire galaxy for you, Obi-Wan. If I'd only known, if I could have taken you back--"_ He choked on his words.

"Bold words for a man who didn't even try, and why would you? You left me in the middle of a war--of course I should have died. Punishment, I suppose, for my disobedience. For leaving you. Was it worth it?" The words tasted bitter even as I said them. I took a deep breath. "Well, I survived, Master Jinn. I'm sorry to disappoint you."

Master Jinn's mouth drew into a long line, and he slipped his hands into his sleeves again. Grimly, he said, _"I'm...Obi-Wan. I know you might never forgive me. But Anakin and Ahsoka aren't involved in this. I can forgive you, but you have to let them go."_

"Forgive--are we even having the same conversation? _What,_ pray tell, am I supposed to beg forgiveness for? For leaving the Order? That was my choice, not a mistake or lapse of judgement! A choice I assumed you respected, no less, since you hardly made any move to stop me." I sneered at him. "I guess you had your own reasons for that, didn't you?"

Master Jinn flinched as if struck.

"Furthermore," I continued, "I _don't know_ where Skywalker is. I've been tracking him down ever since he got his idiot self kidnapped this morning. And I am _not_ about to throw a fourteen-year-old Padawan out into Coruscant's undercity at nearly midnight because it'll make _you_ feel better!" I took a deep breath. "Master Jinn. I don't know what I've done to make you believe so poorly of me, but you seem to have reached a number of extremely rash, extremely false conclusions."

Master Jinn's gaze hardened. _"Tell me where you are, Obi-Wan."_

I glared back. "You aren't my Master anymore. You don't command me."

Instantly, Master Jinn went completely Jedi-blank. When he spoke, his voice was cold. _"Very well. I see I've failed with you the same way I failed with Xanatos. I never should have taken you as my Padawan."_

Ahsoka gasped. 

I closed my eyes, clenching my free hand until it began to ache. It hurt to hear, more than I'd expected. I had always known he'd thought that, but hearing the final rejection plainly struck me to the core in a way I didn't think Master Jinn was capable of anymore. The lack of faith, the resignation that I would Fall, the foregone conclusion that I should be capable of and given in to cruelty...

I wondered if Master Jinn had ever seen me for myself, and not as Xanatos's shadow or another one of his pitiable pathetic life forms. I had never had enough light to shine for myself--not like Skywalker's brilliant strength--and Master Jinn had never cared to look closely for it. Perhaps it was for the best, that Master Jinn apparently found our time together as pleasant as I had.

Perhaps that was why he'd thought to dispose of me. I had always been expendable to him, ever since I tried to trade my life for his on Bandomeer, but I hadn't wanted to hear it plainly. If he had so wanted to be rid of me, couldn't he have done so on his own, gently?

I took a deep breath, counted to five, and let it out, along with all of my anger. Master Jinn had made his choices twenty years ago--it didn't matter if I only found out about them now, and they no longer had any bearing on my life.

"If you believe that, then this conversation is pointless, Master Jinn. Because I'm not whoever you see in me, and you refuse to listen to reason," I said. "I realize you don't believe anything I say, but Padawan Tano and Captain Rex are in perfect health. Neither of them are here under duress, and I have made no attempt to confine them. You'll see them at the Temple tomorrow morning."

 _"I dare say I will,"_ Master Jinn said. _"Let me speak to Ahsoka."_

"As you please, Master Jinn. We have nothing further to discuss." I returned the commlink to Ahsoka. "Please keep it brief. You'll have time to yell at him tomorrow, and I don't want my neighbors to send me noise complaints."

Ahsoka snatched the commlink and glared at Master Jinn. "I don't care what you say. I'm not coming back. I'm staying with Obi-Wan until we find Skyguy."

_"Ahsoka, please. You can't trust him. I don't know what he's promised, but it's not true. He doesn't care about you or Anakin, and he will turn on you."_

Ahsoka scoffed. "He sure cares about me more than _you_ do! We've been looking for Skyguy all afternoon, and what have you done? Nothing!"

_"Grandpadawan, that isn't true. Of course I care deeply about you."_

"Then why is it the only time you've tried to talk to me is when Skyguy goes missing? You don't know _anything_ about me, Master Jinn. You know why? You haven't _asked._ It's not like it was impossible--I've been at the Temple plenty of times but you're always running off!"

_"Ahsoka, you don't understand--"_

"And whose fault is that, huh? Look, I don't care if you don't want to be around your Grandpadawan all the time, but you don't get to do all that and then turn around and pretend you're my honored Grandmaster! It's not my fault Obi-Wan wants to be my friend when you don't!"

_"Obi-Wan cannot be trusted--"_

"I can decide for myself who to trust, actually. Thanks for the comm, Master Jinn. We're going to find Skyguy without you. _Good night._ "

Without waiting for Master Jinn's response, she terminated the transmission and threw her commlink on the bed. She buried her face in her hands, upset radiating off her in waves.

I didn't blame her. That conversation would upset anyone.

Carefully, I sat back on the bed and pulled her to my side. "I'm sorry," I said.

She threw her arms around me and pressed her face into my side, shaking. "I can't believe he _said_ that about you! He didn't even _care--_ "

"You don't need to get angry on my behalf," I told her gently. "Believe me, I had enough time to get angry about it myself."

"I just--" Ahsoka's voice hitched. "I don't--if he left _you_ behind, if he's talking about you like that now, what's he going to do with me? I'm not the Chosen One. I'm not...calm or talented or _anything,_ and he--he was talking about you like you were _Dark_ or something!"

"He probably believes I am," I said. "Master Jinn has a couple of hang-ups about his failed apprentices. Did anyone ever tell you about Xanatos?"

Ahsoka shook her head. Of course nobody had mentioned it, least of all Master Jinn. It was his single biggest failure, a stain on his pride and honor for years afterwards. I was probably the only person who knew enough about the situation willing to talk about it.

Did she need to know about Xanatos? Probably not, but she deserved an explanation for Master Jinn's behavior, especially since she was the one who would have to deal with him.

I laid a steadying hand on her shoulder and explained. "Xanatos was Master Jinn's second Padawan, right before me. I didn't know Xanatos then, obviously, but I heard he was talented and charismatic, among many other things. Master Jinn cared deeply about him."

Ahsoka made a disbelieving noise.

"Master Jinn has not always been the way he is now, Ahsoka. From the brief interaction I observed of Master Jinn and Xanatos, I have to believe that, at some point, they loved each other. Not romantically, obviously, but love nonetheless--I don't think they could hate each other so vehemently otherwise."

"Then what happened? To Xanatos?"

"He failed his Trials, and Fell to the Dark Side," I said. "I don't know the details of that mission--that's something you would have to research yourself--but it hurt Master Jinn very badly. Afterwards, Master Jinn publicly swore to never take another Padawan again. Obviously, that didn't happen, because he took me, and later on Skywalker, but there were some, ah, extenuating circumstances surrounding the start of my apprenticeship. I don't really want to go into detail about it, but the relevant part is that Xanatos captured and enslaved me under the assumption that I was Master Jinn's new Padawan, and used that to taunt him."

"He _enslaved_ you?"

"Pirates were involved, and Xanatos purchased me. The short version is that his men collared me with a bomb, which I have to assume upset Master Jinn, then trapped us within the mines of Bandomeer. There was a...a mining company involved, I think. Offworld. When the two of us escaped, Xanatos made it clear that he would return to take his revenge on Master Jinn. It was obviously personal for both of them. Master Jinn took it very hard," I said.

"Did...did he? Take revenge?"

"I don't know," I told her. "Bandomeer was the only time I met Xanatos, though the incident left an extremely lasting impression--as you'd expect from anyone who strapped a high explosive to my neck. I think he died a year or two later, but, as we have established, I was in the middle of a civil war at the time, and when it was over, Xanatos was the least of my concerns. Based on Master Jinn's assumptions about _me,_ I think it's safe to say Xanatos committed a few more unsavory deeds. They certainly never reconciled, and forgiveness has never been Master Jinn's strong suit."

Ahsoka sniffed. "He still shouldn't have done that to you."

I closed my eyes and exhaled. "No. He shouldn't have."

"I could...I could punch him for you. In the stomach. I've got a really mean right hook, that's what Skyguy says, and I'm a youngling, so I won't get in too much trouble."

Her indignation was heartwarming, if misguided. "I appreciate the offer, Ahsoka, but it's not necessary. This all happened a long time ago."

"It would make _me_ feel better," she groused.

"You still shouldn't punch your Grandmaster. Revenge is not the Jedi way."

Ahsoka muttered something unflattering about the Jedi way, which I chose not to hear. Her upset had not subsided, but it was less volatile now, more the ebb and flow of tides than a churning storm. I wanted to project my own calm into the Force, to settle her the way I had often been settled and comforted as an Initiate, but the Force was stubbornly trapped beneath my skin as it had been for over twenty years. All I could do was hold her close, and hope she understood.

After a long time, she asked, "Did you...do you love Master Jinn?"

I shook my head. "No. I did at some point, back when I was his Padawan, but I've changed since then, and too many things have happened. I probably could still forgive him, even now, but I can't love him anymore. The time for that passed a long time ago."

"Oh," Ahsoka said softly.

"I'm sorry if that wasn't the answer you wanted," I said. "I'm not a well of infinite compassion and wisdom, unfortunately. It's probably for the best I'm not a Jedi." There were a lot of reasons I couldn't be a Jedi, but those were pretty important ones.

"I don't know. I think you'd make a good Jedi," Ahsoka said. "And if you hadn't left the Order, I...kind of wish you'd been my Master. Instead of Skyguy. I mean, I like Skyguy a lot, but he's hard to work with sometimes and he gets stuck in his own head, but you...get it more. And I feel okay about telling you I'm scared, and like I don't have to be the best at everything or worry about slowing anyone down. I don't feel like I have to prove anything to you."

I pulled her around into a full hug. "You don't, dear Padawan. You don't have to be anything except yourself."

Ahsoka squeezed me tightly. "Thanks, Obi-Wan."

* * *

We spent what little was left of the night going through the many files we had copied from the Hall of Records, cross-referencing lists and news articles off the HoloNet. It was silent and slow, and Ahsoka ended up falling asleep over her notes a bit before 0100.

Without needing to be asked, Rex helped me put her on the bed and tuck her in. I set her datapad on the floor beside the bed.

Ahsoka looked a lot more peaceful in sleep--a lot more calm, once all the frenetic energy and determination had burned out. She looked small and impossibly young.

"She really is just a youngling," Rex murmured to me. "It's easy to forget that sometimes, when we're on the front lines and she's got her saber just like any other Jedi, but she's not just any other Jedi, is she? She's a youngling. She shouldn't be out there."

"No. None of the Jedi should be out there, and the Padawans least of all," I said.

I dimmed the lights and the two of us sat back at the dining table, my mug of lightly sweetened flower tea beside a small plate of roasted seeds to share and a slowly growing pile of seed hulls. It was a familiar tableau, superimposed over Jango and I doing much the same thing in his ship over long nights in hyperspace, searching the galaxy for informants and targets. 

I tried not to think of Rex like that. He wasn't Jango, and it was unfair to keep making the comparison, but when he wasn't wearing the armor, I kept seeing him out the corner of my eye. It was the eyes, I think. Rex had the same steeliness Jango had--a fiery passion and indomitable force of will. He seemed like the sort of person to _make_ things happen, with his own two hands if necessary. I had always loved that.

"Earlier," Rex said as he picked up his datapad and started scrolling through it, "you said Jedi didn't fight wars. Why is that?"

"Well, you understand I was ejected from the Order for joining a war," I said. "Not quite in that order, but the principle remains the same--war and the ideals of the Jedi are diametrically opposed. Their role since the founding of the Republic has been to act as neutral mediators and diplomats and providers of aid and defense to those who require it. They're meant to prevent wars and, failing that, to end them. Not fight them."

"Sometimes you can't end wars except by fighting," Rex replied. "And the Jedi are _very_ good at fighting."

"They are--the Force helps with that--but there's a Temple idiom, paraphrased, that drawing a lightsaber means you have already failed. I won't make pretensions to expertise on warfare, but the way I've seen it, fighting ends battles, not wars, and winning a war doesn't end the conflict--it only stops the fighting, often only because it's too costly to continue. Without real peacekeepers, without real will to bring the violence to a true and permanent end, it's only a matter of time before the fighting begins again. Perhaps if I had known that at Melida/Daan, I would be a very different person now."

Rex set his datapad down. "Really? How so?"

"We nearly ended the war about six months after I joined it," I said. "One of our leaders, and one of my very good friends, her name was Cerasi. She and I had helped initiate a ceasefire. She was going to establish something lasting, but she was assassinated. At that point, I could have petitioned for Jedi assistance to stop the war for good, but I was, well. I don't know. Too angry to let it all go, or too prideful, or something else entirely. I didn't contact the Temple, and the fighting continued for three more years, and we were only able to finally stop the war by gaining significant leverage over the other factions. It...was not kind or honorable, what we--I--did." I had not been the one to plan or approve all the schemes we used to bring the Melida and the Daan to their knees, but I had pulled the trigger. "I'm not proud of it."

"Did it work?"

"I suppose. The war had damaged everyone so thoroughly that the only way any of them would survive was if they put their differences aside and banded together. There was no choice but to sit for peace talks, and it took a very trying couple of months to build a new government from scratch that wouldn't instantly devolve into fighting again. Even then I was scared the clans would rather annihilate each other than cooperate. I still am."

Rex reached over to grab a handful of seeds and started cracking them open between his teeth. "Even if they started the fighting again, you've bought them years of peace, haven't you?"

"There's more violence than blasters and vibroblades, Soldier. There's violence of systematic neglect, violence of prejudice, violence of willful oversight--just because the fighting is over doesn't mean it's peaceful. I saw them to the end of the war, but not to the start of peace." I sipped my tea and took some seeds of my own. I popped one open with my mechanical hand. "I don't know how they're doing anymore--I haven't checked in over five years. I'm scared to. I lost so much in their war, and if it turns out they've devolved again, then it all feels worthless. I don't think that's what happened--despite the things we'd done, the people I left believed in peace, real peace, and at the end of the war, not all of them were younglings anymore. At the point when they sent me away, I had to have faith in their resolve. It helps that with the war over, they could more easily petition the Senate or the Jedi for aid."

"And that's how that war ended."

I nodded and tossed my seed hulls onto the pile. "Not exactly a happy ending, but the ends of wars typically aren't."

"Is that what you think will happen to the Republic?" Rex asked.

"I don't know. A Jedi would probably tell you to trust in the will of the Force."

Rex's brows went up. "But not you?"

"No. Not me. I don't believe in the will of the Force anymore. The Force is...much bigger than any of this. Things like the Republic and the Separatists don't even register to it. It would be incredible hubris to assume it has any kind of personal stake--if it has a will about this war, it's certainly not anything intentional," I said. "Don't tell the Order I said that. I don't need them coming after me for heresy."

"Then...what _do_ you think will happen?"

I drummed my mechanical fingers on the table, thinking about it. I didn't have prescience anymore, but my intuition was pretty good, and I had learned to trust it. "I think, at the end of this war, the Republic will have to change, or be changed irrevocably. Perhaps it will even be destroyed, and I think having Jedi serve as its face and at its head will only exacerbate the problem."

Rex's eyes narrowed. "If the Jedi don't lead our armies, more of us die. More civilians die. The Separatist battle droids burn out entire settlements if we can't stop them. Surely, saving those lives is more important than the Jedi's image as peacekeepers."

"It's not about image," I said. "It's that Jedi aren't trained for war. Not strategy, not logistics, not even really directing troops. I'd know better than most--when I hit Melida/Daan, I had to relearn almost everything, and we _didn't_ have rigid military structures. The Force can fill some of the gaps--a lot of Jedi have limited precognition and are uniquely equipped to quickly identify traps and threats--but the Force won't tell you how much food or medical supplies you need to last to the next supply drop, it can't tell you how to get troops where they need to be, and it won't save you or your people from a blaster bolt. It's not all-powerful."

Rex frowned. "I...see."

"By putting Jedi as the heads of this war, the Senate is forcing them to serve in a capacity they were never trained or prepared for--it wouldn't surprise me if some Jedi lose their connection to the Force the same way I did, for similar reasons." I took another long drink from my cooling tea. "The Jedi are caught between the Senate and their duties. In an ideal galaxy, they would initiate peace talks with the Separatists and let them secede from the Republic in a way that satisfies both parties, but the Republic _can't_ be satisfied, because it can't afford to lose all those worlds and resources. And since the Jedi are sworn--legally, if not ideologically--to protect the institution of the Republic, they're forced to stand against the Separatists when other options would be safer and less violent."

Rex was quiet for a long moment. "Do you really think it'd be that easy? To do peace talks with the Separatists and let them do their own thing and stop the fighting?"

"No, not at all. Wars don't just _happen_. They're a symptom of deeply rooted systematic issues and widespread injustices. Things nobody stopped before it was too late, or things people have become so complacent in that nobody wants to change them. And sometimes, people just want to fight--they want to subjugate others, and that's not something you can compromise with. In either case, letting the Separatists secede without fixing the root problems would only lead to more problems down the line. Unfortunately, the Republic has too much inertia to easily fix anything. It's grown stagnant--it's so large it's nearly impossible to make meaningful change. Stick to the status quo for too long and things fester."

"Careful, Detective. Talk like that, and someone might think you're a Separatist."

I raised a brow. "Are you going to report me for sedition, Soldier?"

Rex met my gaze squarely. "What if I did?"

"I suppose I'd be unhappy. I wouldn't want to end our friendship, short as it's been," I said, sipping my tea once more. "Tell me, Soldier. What do you fight for?"

"The Republic." He said it so easily that he must have said it thousands of times before.

"But what _is_ the Republic?" I pressed. "What is it you're really trying to protect? Is it the Chancellor? Is it the Senate? Is it Coruscant? Is it all the worlds spread across the galaxy? Is it our laws? Is it you and your brothers?"

Rex opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, his gaze dropping away from mine.

I leaned in towards him. "Let me tell you what I think: the Republic isn't a world or worlds. It isn't the laws that hold it together. It isn't the Senate or the cities or the planetary mines or the money. The Republic is a people. People across the galaxy, some who have traveled from Rim to Rim, some who have never seen any sky except the one they were born under. A million cultures, a million languages, an exchanging of ideas so brilliant that you can travel for a thousand years and never stop learning.

"When I swore to protect the Republic as a Jedi, that's what I meant. I wanted to stop injustices and preserve people's rights and their cultures and their homes. I wanted to help _people,_ not to become the sword arm of the Senate or the Chancellor. Sometimes, being a tool is how you can do the best work, but the order of those priorities matters. The duties and ideals of a Jedi are chains, have no doubt about that, but they are chains I could choose to bear, and it's the work of the Jedi Order as a whole where we--they--can make the greatest impact." I smiled sardonically. "Perhaps if I'd been a proper Jedi, my time in Melida/Daan wouldn't have been so disastrous."

I clasped my hands together. "Maybe that's an overly idealized vision of the Jedi--I was only a Padawan for such a short time. Maybe if I had stayed with the Order, I would have met unimaginable hardships and learned to compromise my vision, to temper my ideals with the realities of the galaxy, but...even knowing about the harshness of the worlds out there, even having been cruelly treated by them myself, I want to believe in kindness and the beauty of life and living. I've lost a lot--too much, some would say--but I've gained a lot, too. Friends, a livelihood, a home. I've loved and been loved many times, Rex. I've lost all of them with time, and will undoubtedly continue to do so, but that doesn't mean it wasn't worth it."

Rex looked away, off into the distance, a cracked seed forgotten between his fingers. "I see. I guess I've never really thought about that."

"Well, you're only ten years old," I said. "And you've only seen the wider galaxy for a few months now. These kinds of answers aren't things you learn out of a book--they're things you have to find on your own. I daresay you will, sooner rather than later."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"I don't know if it's a bad thing. But you were built and raised for war--you've never known anything else. It was not fair of the Republic to do that to you, and as much as you will probably hate me saying it, I'm sorry." I finished my tea. "Someone created you and your brothers for a reason, Soldier. Maybe there's something freeing about _knowing_ you were built for a purpose, but I don't trust it was the one they told you. You should find out what it is, and choose for yourself if that's what you want."

"It probably couldn't hurt," Rex said. He finished extracting the seed from the shell he was holding, then flicked the cracked shell back and forth on the table. He had a restless look on his face, one I found very familiar from when Jango used to speak of home. "Would you fight the war, if you were still a Jedi? Even feeling the way you do?"

"You're full of hard questions today, aren't you?" I asked. I propped my chin on my hand, considering it. "I probably would. I mean, I've left the Order to fight a war. It's likely I would stay to fight one, too. It would be wrong, but I would do it to protect you and your brothers, and whomever else I could. Some small good in the face of great injustice. Much like I do now, I suppose. What about you, Soldier? What would you do, if there was no war to fight?"

"I..." Rex's brow creased, and his gaze went someplace off in the distance. "I don't know. I've never thought about it."

"Never?"

"I've always taken it for granted that I'd end up marching one day. It's the same for most of us. _After_ isn't...really something we think about. I guess I could do protection detail or become part of a standing army, or...I don't know. What's out there, for a clone?"

That broke my heart a little. How horrible, to be created and trained to fight someone else's war, with a violent death as a foregone conclusion. That was an injustice too large for me to even comprehend.

"Infinitely many things," I said softly. "It's a big galaxy. Education, agriculture, industry, research, bounty hunting, monastery, art..."

"Investigation?" Rex took his seed shells and threw them on the pile.

"Yes, that too. Perhaps that's something else to think about."

"You've given me a lot of that, Detective." 

I smiled. "I could give you more, if you like."

Rex abruptly turned away, but not before I saw his face go red again. "No, that's...okay."

"For what it's worth, I've greatly enjoyed your company, Soldier. You're a credit to your brothers and your progenitor. Perhaps even to your General."

Rex still didn't turn back towards me. "I don't know if that's a compliment or not. Detective."

"Something to meditate on, perhaps."

I got up to rinse out my mug, and Rex followed me, bringing the pile of seed shells. He tossed them into the recycler and poured the uneaten seeds back into the bag. There was a faraway look in his eyes as we navigated around each other and cleaned up. That was fair. He had a lot to think about.

I glanced back to where Ahsoka was sleeping gently, bundled up tight under the blankets and breathing deeply. The Force swirled around her as if she were dreaming. I hoped they were pleasant.

"Rex," I said. "You'll keep Ahsoka safe, won't you?"

Rex nodded. "I will."

"She'll say she won't need it, but she needs the support. A Master is all well and good, but she needs a friend and someone she can trust. Someone who won't judge her for her mistakes and can watch her back when she's out there. I can't stop her from fighting the Republic's war; I can't make that choice for her, but...I would like her to come out the other side alive and well."

"Me, too," Rex said.

I pulled Rex over to me and pressed my forehead to his, like the many times I had done with Jango. "Thank you, Rex. You're a good man, and I hope the war doesn't take that from you. The coming days will be harder than anything you've ever done. Don't lose sight of what's important."

Rex seemed frozen in place for a long moment before leaning in and bringing his hand to cradle the back of my head. It was a firm but unsure touch, that of someone not used to this form of contact or otherwise scared to give it, but I could feel his sincerity through the Force like a physical vibration between us. "Thank you, Obi-Wan. For helping us, and for trusting me. Maybe if I come out the other side of this war...I'll find you."

"If that's what you want. I'll be here," I said, pulling away gently. "It's getting late. Maybe we should sleep."

"Yeah," Rex said. I could still see a red flush on his brown cheeks, but he looked more dignified about it this time. "I can sleep on the floor."

"Nonsense. You're my guest. Take the couch, and I'll lay out some blankets for myself. I have certainly slept rougher."

"I'm not going to make you sleep on your floor in your own apartment--"

I put my hand on Rex's shoulder. "That was an order, Soldier."

"You're not my commanding officer, Detective."

"Am I not the one leading this investigation?" I asked. I pulled open the closet and threw Rex a pillow. "Go to sleep, Soldier. Excitement can wait until tomorrow."

He rolled his eyes and saluted me. "Yes, sir."

* * *

I dreamt vividly again that night. This time, it was about Melida/Daan.

That's all I have to say about that.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan returns to the Jedi Temple. He wishes it were under better circumstances.

I woke abruptly, harshly, to the awful sound of a warning siren.

I was moving before I hit full awareness, feet scrambling over slippery terrain, searching wildly in the darkness for a safe place--any place--to hide. Something snaked around my legs, tangling me and jerking me off-balance. A scream caught in my throat--sound could get you killed, if you weren't careful--

I fell. Firm hands caught me. Friendly hands--or so the Force told me, as much as it ever told me anything anymore. They held me upright when the underbrush trapping me didn't want me to.

"Detective," the hands said, or the owner of the hands. I couldn't see enough to tell. "Detective, take a deep breath. Come on. Breathe in."

A command. I was good at listening to commands. I sucked air through my teeth. It burned on the way down. My throat just wasn't made for air.

"Good. Breathe out."

I let the air out. It felt bad coming out, too.

"Again."

I did it again. The second breath didn't feel so bad, and neither did the ones after that. After what felt like forever, the spots went out of my eyes and I could see the outlines of a face somewhere in front of me, a face I was supposed to know, and bits and pieces of a room. Four walls all around me. Not in the open. That meant I was safe, or what counted for it.

Breathing got a little easier after that.

The hands did something that got whatever was on my legs, off my legs, then pulled me over to a wall and sat me down against it. It was just as well--my legs wouldn't hold me up anyways.

"Detective," the voice said again, somewhere in front of me. "I'm going to turn the lights on. Is that okay?"

Lights were good. I nodded.

Footsteps trailed away from me, and with a soft click, the lights went up. Four walls made themselves known, and within them, a table, a couch, a bed, some drawers. A pile of blankets on the ground, all thrown haphazardly. No weapons, no hazards. No lines of sight to get sniped or bombed.

I reached out into the Force and it screamed through me, still loud from all the heightened emotions of the night. Nobody was dying, nobody was crying, nobody was trying to kill me. Just Coruscant and its faceless, aimless, monstrous noise.

Good. I let out a long and shaky breath.

I felt hands around my shoulders, gentler this time. "Are you okay, Detective? Do you know where you are?"

"Coruscant," I said. "I'm in Coruscant. In my apartment." I looked up and found eyes there, full of concern. Maybe even for me--now wasn't that a thought. "Rex."

Rex nodded. "Yeah. That's me. Glad you're back with us, Detective."

"Glad to be here. Soldier," I said. "What time is it?"

Rex leaned over to check, then said, "0520. A little early, I'd say."

I laughed, but it didn't sound like one. A little early, yeah. Poor Kenobi just couldn't ever get a full night's sleep. Why was I even awake?

A sound went off again. Not the warning siren I'd heard between my dreaming and waking, but the door chime. I hated that sound. Who the kriff went to someone's door at this Force-forsaken hour?

I reached out to Rex. "Help me up."

He did, bringing me and my jelly-legs over to the door. The door chime went off again, and longer this time. I got the sense that whoever was on the other end of it was getting impatient.

I switched the door comm on. "Who is it?"

"Representatives from the Jedi Temple," said a deep voice. It wasn't one I recognized. "We have been sent to retrieve Obi-Wan Kenobi."

It was obvious from the tone of voice that 'retrieve' in this context actually meant 'arrest'. Rex went rigid beside me, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to be surprised. It wouldn't be the first time I'd gotten detained, but usually I had to stumble upon a corpse, first.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten. "Under what charges?" I asked.

"Kenobi is to be retrieved and escorted to the Jedi Temple for questioning on suspicion of kidnapping, destruction of evidence, and Dark Side use."

That was about what I had expected, and unfortunately they were all things I had no power to disprove. "Do you have an arrest warrant?"

"We do."

"Slide it through the mail drop. I have a right to see it."

There were a couple of unhappy sounds on the other side of the door, and some rustling. I took the moment to stretch my senses out just enough to perceive my guests through the Force--three people, definitely at least Jedi Knights with their level of shielding. I didn't know much about due process when it came to the Jedi, but three Knights seemed a little excessive to arrest a single person who barely counted as Force-sensitive.

A piece of flimsi was dropped into my mail drop box. It was, to my examination, a real arrest warrant issued by the Jedi Order, signed by Master Windu and everything. It meant they had the authority to take me by force, but...

"This isn't a prosecutor's arrest warrant," I said. "Without Senate approval, you can only detain me for one standard day with this."

"We are aware," said the Jedi. "Please allow yourself to be taken into custody."

I pushed the warrant back under my door. "Considering this incredibly unfortunate hour, could you please allow me fifteen minutes or so to make myself presentable? It would be horribly undignified to be taken to the Jedi Temple in my nightclothes."

There was some muttering on the other side, and something passed through the Force between the Jedi--perhaps some sort of mental communication--then, "Very well. You may have twenty minutes, but if we sense an attempt to escape, we will detain you by force."

"Very gracious of you, Masters Jedi," I said. "Then I shall see you in twenty minutes."

I turned the door comm off.

Rex turned to me. "Why do they want you? They weren't trying to arrest you yesterday. What happened?"

"I have a pretty good idea," I said. "Not that it matters. An arrest warrant is an arrest warrant."

"What are you going to do?"

"Go with them, obviously. I'm beholden to the law, just like any other citizen. I can't fight them off and I can't run--even if I could, that would just give them a real reason to arrest me."

"What about General Skywalker?"

"I'm still figuring that out. I'll tell you the plan after I change." I pulled a set of clothes out of my closet. "While I do that, wake Ahsoka up and explain what you can. We don't have a lot of time."

I pushed past Rex and into the fresher, and fortunately my legs seemed to have remembered how to work in the meantime, because I didn't fall over on the way. At that point, I was _definitely_ awake enough to change without too much difficulty, and did so. I caught sight of my hair in the mirror and turned to look. Ahsoka had made a set of braids from my hairline that transformed into a broad 7-plait rope falling between my shoulder blades, with a ribbon zig-zagged down the center line. I didn't even know where she'd gotten a ribbon from.

It...looked fine. It was a world apart from the thin cables and rosettes Bail favored, and it wasn't the most dignified look for a private investigator, but it was suitable for civilized contact, and I definitely did not have the time or manual dexterity to take it all out. I let it go--Jedi didn't care about my hair, and they were the only company I'd have for the foreseeable future.

Force, what a predicament. If I could have chosen a time to get arrested, I would not have chosen now--we still had an idiot Jedi to find and I could already feel the clock ticking down to when we'd end up with a very powerful Dark Side Skywalker problem, which literally nobody would enjoy. I had been in worse situations before, but not many. See if I ever took a Jedi's case again.

I washed my face and went back out. Seven minutes had passed.

"Okay," I said. "I have a plan."

"You do?" Rex asked. Ahsoka was up and beside him, looking properly awake, but not happy about it. I knew the feeling.

"Yeah. I have to go with the friendly Jedi, which means my hands are tied, but yours shouldn't be." I scooped my commlink off of the dining room table. "First matter of business is making sure I'm not jailed indefinitely. I'm a Republic citizen, so a Jedi's warrant only lasts until the end of reasonable questioning or one standard day, as long as they can't find any proof of jailable offenses, like Dark Side use. Since I've never used the Dark Side, I should be fine, but if they _do_ get a Senatorial or prosecutor's signature, they have the authority to keep holding me at their discretion. The problem is that the Supreme Chancellor might have a vested interest in keeping me locked up regarding this case, and his signature alone is considered 'Senate approval'. Worst-case scenario, he puts out a proper arrest warrant and I'm screwed."

"That's an abuse of power," Rex said.

"Yes? Look, we're already operating on the assumption that the Supreme Chancellor, or someone working with him, who may also be a Sith, blackmailed and kidnapped Knight Skywalker. Leveraging his power to keep me from proving it is the least he would do in that situation," I said. "Which means I need you two to run interference--the Chancellor can't sign the arrest warrant unless the Jedi actually _send_ it to him, first."

"How are we supposed to do that?" Ahsoka asked.

"You are a fourteen-year-old Padawan, and everyone in the High Council is tired. Most of them probably aren't even on the planet anymore," I said. "I'm pretty sure they have to have a Council meeting to send this sort of thing to the Chancellor's office, so if you can cause some mayhem and prevent them from having a proper meeting, that would do the trick. Figure something out. In the meantime, I also have to secure my release, so you,"--I shoved my commlink into Rex's hands--"have to contact Bail Organa and tell him what's happened to me."

Rex took the commlink. "Isn't Senator Organa a bit busy to take a personal comm?"

"Not from me, he isn't. It should be straightforward for him to get me out in this case. The Jedi Temple's investigation is explicitly involved with Skywalker's kidnapping, and only the kidnapping. The blackmail case is out of their jurisdiction--Skywalker expressly did _not_ report the blackmail to them or law enforcement, the blackmail itself only refers to Senator Amidala. The only proof the letters were delivered to Skywalker in the first place is courier testimony, which they don't have. If they can't prove a connection between the two cases, and I don't think they can, everything I've done with respect to the blackmail case is out of their jurisdiction, subject to the law. Just answer Bail's questions to the best of your ability; he knows how to argue this."

"Yes, sir," Rex said.

"The other matter of business is Skywalker. We know now a Sith might be involved, and that Sith might be trying to turn him. I highly doubt they would have waited ten years for the opportunity, so I need you to find out who's most likely to influence Skywalker, friends or enemies or otherwise. We also need to keep investigating the Chancellor for corruption and embezzlement, because he's using Senate resources for his personal ends, and someone is using those resources to imprison Skywalker. Can you handle that?" I asked.

Ahsoka and Rex nodded.

"Good. Do what you can," I said. "Chances are, they'll question you two to make sure I haven't done anything nefarious. Don't lie to them, but if they ask you about the case, you're only required to answer questions directly and provably related to the kidnapping. Anything else?"

"Will you...be okay?" Ahsoka asked.

"It's just detention," I said. "It's nothing I haven't done before, and the Jedi probably won't beat on me for not telling them what they want me to. I'm more worried about Skywalker, honestly. He doesn't have time for this."

"Yeah..." Ahsoka looked away, uncharacteristically shy. "Detective Obi-Wan, would it be okay if I hugged you?"

I knelt down and gave her a hug.

She threw her arms around my neck. "We'll get you out of jail, okay? I promise."

"I know," I said. "We'll get this all sorted out. I've got a good feeling about it."

She clung to me a bit, and the door chime went off again. 

"It's been twenty minutes. Please surrender yourself or we will apprehend you by force," I heard muffled through the door.

"I'll be right out!" I shouted back. To Ahsoka, I said, "Okay, it's showtime. I'm trusting you."

Ahsoka nodded and let me go. "We won't let you down."

I got up and pulled on my coat, emptied all my pockets of anything that might be considered contraband, then handed my baton and spare apartment passkey to Rex. "Hold onto those, Soldier. I'll need them back when you get me out."

"Of course, Detective."

I nodded. "Then may the Force be with you."

I opened the door.

* * *

I had to admit, being escorted by Temple guards and held with Force-suppressing cuffs was not how I had imagined my great return to the Jedi Temple. _If_ I had ever imagined a great return to the Jedi Temple. Most of my life since Melida/Daan had been spent under the assumption I would never step foot in it again, and I had taken pains since returning Coruscant to make it so.

Well, so much for that.

By the time my two escorts--the third having remained with Ahsoka and Rex--and I reached the Temple, it was a little past dawn, which meant that, with so many Jedi being early risers, there were plenty of people awake to see the Knight guards take me from the lower speeder bay and through the Temple gates. My very non-Jedi appearance attracted curious looks over the course of our procession, and I knew I would be the subject of Temple gossip for days to come--something to distract from the war effort, if nothing else. I didn't recognize any of the Jedi. I didn't know if I even _could_ after all this time.

The gossip that followed us wasn't quiet. I caught some bits about Skywalker's disappearance, but most of the speculation was about an attempted break-in to one of the Archive vaults. 'Attempted' seemed to be the key word--nothing had been successfully stolen. That was interesting, and the timing so close to Skywalker's kidnapping was probably not a coincidence. I filed that away for later.

The Temple itself was just as I remembered--endless ancient corridors of hewn stone, carved by hand and Force alike over hundreds of years into elegant arches and columns of older times. There was a presence in the Temple structures, weathered and cultivated by the thousand years that preceded them, and I had, as now, often felt that the very air stood still in time. The Temple was _in_ Coruscant, but it wasn't _of_ Coruscant. It wasn't _of_ anywhere except itself and the Force.

The feeling of the Temple was different now. The ancient structures held no comfort for me the way they had when I was younger--I was no longer connected to the Force the way I once was, and the Force suppressing cuffs around my wrists blocked out any sense of the psychic landscape. Where I had once felt an infinite and nourishing Light, now all I had in the Force was a rolling sense of agitation as the buffer of Coruscant's residual static within me bled off, leaving behind only my own ragged and aching Force. It reverberated heavily from my bones on outwards, like my skin was too tight against them. I could ride out most Force suppressants without issues, but the ones the Jedi Temple had provided were much more aggressive than I was used to--meant for Darksiders, I assumed--and I wasn't enjoying the experience.

My escorts, a white-haired human man and a tall Bothan woman who did not grace me with their names, took me down to the secure levels of the Temple, which I had never visited before even when I had been Jedi. I kept my head up and my gaze aimed squarely forward. I wasn't a criminal, as much as they wanted me to be one, and I was not obligated to act like one even as they took me to a holding cell.

The cell itself was nothing of note. It was a blank windowless room with a hard cot welded to the wall. A thin blanket was draped over it, but there were no other effects. Other than a second frisk to ensure I wasn't carrying any weapons, communication devices, or other contraband, I was led into the cell with no fanfare at all.

The cell door closed behind me with a soft hiss of motors. It was a Jedi's cell, with no visible locks to pick and door mechanisms not controlled from within the same room. There were probably some Force suppressants in the cell itself, though with the cuffs I had no way to sense it for myself. A camera was mounted just outside my cell, watching my movements.

The Bothan guard informed me that someone would bring a standard meal for my species at 0700, and a Jedi would later retrieve me for questioning. I asked her if perhaps I could have something to read in the meantime, but she made no sign of having even heard me and left.

Then I was alone. Not _truly_ alone, since the camera was always trained on me with probably at least two Jedi on the other end, but alone enough with a small cell and a hard bunk. They didn't even bother to station a Temple guard right outside the cell--I wasn't valuable or dangerous enough to warrant that, and the other guards were just down the corridor anyways.

It didn't really matter that I was in a Jedi cell versus any other one--detention was all the same. In a small windowless room under dimmed lights, time and place just about stop working. I had no chrono, no datapad, no communications. Just time and thoughts and no distractions between them.

I was tired, and the Force churned beneath my skin like a snarling creature straining against its chains. My senses felt stifled and hyperactive all at once, made intense by how close I was forced to hold them and by how little there was to stimulate them. I felt balanced on a knife's edge, only more precarious because of my restraints, but not impossibly so--I had to stay calm, that's all.

I sat back against the wall, hands clasped, and closed my eyes. I couldn't do anything about the Force restraints, but I could at least still myself and regulate the Force within me. With my senses confined as they were, with no connection to any grounding Force, it would take a while, but at the moment that was hardly an issue.

Right now, I had nothing but time.

* * *

The morning passed slowly as it always does in detention. The guards provided a sufficient, if uninspiring meal straight from the refectory, and a few different Jedi I didn't recognize retrieved me to ask questions. Most of them were questions I didn't have to answer--matters pertaining to my life and occupation--and therefore didn't. For some reason, this made them unhappy, but that wasn't really my problem. As much as the Jedi were perfectly fine people and as much as I wanted Skywalker to get found, I had meant it when I said I'd keep Skywalker's business confidential, and I had to protect myself, too. Even the best sorts of people will do anything to pin you if they're already convinced you're in the wrong.

I spent the time between interviews in light meditation, trying to soothe the Force roiling within me, especially as the hollowness of where my connection to the Force used to be made itself known. It was a slow process, and one I had to frequently revisit as agitations arose.

I had no concept of how much time had passed when I was once again retrieved from my cell and brought to questioning for the fourth time. I guessed it was sometime near 1100, but it could have been any time before the midday meal and I had no windows or chronos to verify my estimate. The guards hadn't answered when I asked about the time, either, but I supposed they didn't answer questions in general.

The room for questioning was little more exciting than the cell--there was one door, a large one-way mirror, and a table bolted to the floor with two chairs on opposite sides. The guard gestured for me to sit down, and I did. No point in being obstinate about this sort of thing. They didn't bother to physically restrain me more than I already was from the cuffs, which were pretty physically loose already--the Jedi on the other side of the glass could use the Force to stop me easily enough if I tried anything.

A few minutes passed in silence before the interviewer of the hour graced me with his presence, a Kel Dor with a datapad under his arm and a lightsaber clearly visible on his belt. He sat down across from me with the prim elegance and decorum expected of a Jedi.

"Hello," the Kel Dor said. His voice was low through his filter, but as kind as it would ever be in a situation like this. "I am sure you are tired of being brought out repeatedly for questioning, but I'm afraid I'll have to impose on you once again."

"Wonderful," I said dryly.

"First, I must introduce myself. I am Master Plo Koon. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

So this was the venerable Master Koon. He wasn't quite what I had expected from Ahsoka's descriptions--he had a softness about him that made him feel _smaller._ Not insignificant or weak, certainly, but not the incredible presence I had always thought of Jedi Masters carrying like a force of nature. But then, nearly all my experience with Jedi Masters came from when I was young and short. I could look Masters in the eye now, in ways more than physical.

At least he was polite. I could appreciate that.

"Charmed. I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi, but you already knew that," I said.

Master Koon nodded his acknowledgment. "Would it be okay if I called you Obi-Wan for the duration of this interview?"

"You may not," I said. "Kenobi will be fine. Or Detective, if you prefer to use a title."

If my frankness bothered Master Koon, he showed no sign of it. "Of course, Kenobi." He unlocked his datapad. "Before we start, what concerns do you have?"

"You'll have to be more specific. What am I supposed to be concerned about?"

Master Koon gestured broadly. "About any number of things. About your current situation, about the kidnapping case with which we are currently concerned, about Knight Skywalker. Anything you wish to discuss."

I didn't, on matter of principle, discuss things with my interrogators, but Master Koon was at the head of Skywalker's kidnapping investigation. If there was anyone to ask questions to, it would be him.

"What Archive vault did someone try to break into?" I asked.

Master Koon tilted his head to the side. "How do you know anyone tried to burgle an Archive vault?"

"I heard about it on my way in. Seems like most people who saw me guessed that was my crime--you really ought to tell them about keeping their voices down. It sounded interesting, so I thought I'd ask."

"You think it's relevant to Knight Skywalker's kidnapping?"

"I don't know. It could be. Or maybe someone's just taking advantage of the chaos. Do you know what they were trying to steal?"

"If we did or did not, that's not something we can disclose to you, Detective."

Shut down. Not a surprise at all. It was always worth asking, though.

Master Koon continued, "Do you have any other concerns?"

"Yeah. How are Padawan Tano and Captain Rex?" I asked.

Master Koon stilled, as if this were not the question he had expected. He recovered just as quickly and said, "They are well. After our Knights retrieved you, Padawan Tano and Captain Rex were returned to the Temple and screened by our Mind Healers."

"For Dark Side influence, I presume."

Master Koon bowed his head. "Correct."

"Did they find anything?"

A pause. "...They did not."

Of course they hadn't. I was about as likely to use the Dark Side as I was to sprout wings and fly away. It was telling that Master Koon had told the truth, even with his obvious reticence. Maybe even a good sign.

"The Mind Healers were hoping to examine you directly," Master Koon said. "To reassure us that you are as untouched by the Dark Side as you say you are."

"I do not consent."

"Detective Kenobi. It is, I assure you, a painless process," Master Koon said, voice reasonable. "Our Mind Healers are very experienced with this procedure and sworn to complete confidentiality."

"I do not consent," I repeated. "Such an examination is invasive and unnecessary. Your accusation is that I have used the Dark Side with respect to the kidnapping of Anakin Skywalker. I have not, but if I had done so, there would be physical and psychic evidence to that effect. You have no grounds to examine me against my will until you find proof of my wrongdoing."

"If you have not used the Dark Side, a mental examination will exonerate you."

"Master Koon, I know how mental examinations work--I was once mind-wiped as a Padawan, and the subsequent examination after my recovery was extremely thorough. I'm older now, and I have confidences to keep due to my profession. It is not unnatural that I will not allow unrestricted access to my mind, especially to someone I don't implicitly trust, and there is _no_ Jedi I implicitly trust. I do not consent to a mental examination."

"I see." The disappointment was clear in Master Koon's voice, but he pushed forward nonetheless. "Then let us move on. Where were you yesterday between the hours of 0800 and 0930?"

I had already given my alibi about five times, but that was normal. Interrogators liked to ask the same questions to see if my answers ever changed, or were a little too rehearsed. I didn't see the point of it, when Jedi had the ability to tell when people were lying through the Force, though I supposed that skill might not work on me. It wasn't like I knew any Jedi who could tell me about that.

"I was sleeping in my apartment until 0830, then left around 0910," I said. "I went to 500 Republica. I reached there a bit before 1000."

"Is there anyone who can verify this alibi?" Master Koon asked.

"Of course not. I don't live with anyone, there's no cameras in my apartment building, the lot I keep my speeder in does not have valet service, and I went to 500 Republica alone. The best you'll find is surveillance footage from when I reached 500 Republica."

"Why did you go to 500 Republica?" Master Koon asked.

"I had to interview someone."

"Would you tell me who?"

"No, I would not. I've given you enough to verify my alibi. If you want to investigate further, that's your right, but I don't have to volunteer that information."

Master Koon made a noise which sounded distinctly like a sigh. "You are very well-informed on your rights."

"As much as anyone should be," I said. "Have you found Knight Skywalker yet?"

"No. Did you kidnap Knight Skywalker, or were you in any way involved with his kidnapping?"

"No."

"Do you have any information about the kidnapper or where Knight Skywalker is being held?"

It sounded like he was genuinely asking, not fishing for information--though the two weren't mutually exclusive.

"I know the kidnapper's humanoid, about my height, and Force-sensitive," I said. "That's all I'm sure of."

"Little 'Soka said you also believed the kidnapper was Sith," Master Koon replied.

Little 'Soka. Cute. I wondered what would happen if I tried to call her that--she'd probably punch me.

"I told her something to that effect, yes," I said. 

"Is it true? It's a rather bold accusation, that someone is a Sith."

I leaned back in my chair. "It's a hunch, that's all. There's no proof for or against the kidnapper being Sith, but if they're a trained Force-sensitive--a conclusion I believe _your_ team has already come to--it rather severely shortens your list of suspects. It seems more likely a Force-sensitive kidnapping a Knight would be Sith than Jedi, no?"

Master Koon lowered his head in agreement. "I would hope so. I do not like to think we may have a traitor in our midst."

"You and me both. I'm not fond of people who go back on their word."

Master Koon tapped a few things on his datapad, then said, "What of you, Detective Kenobi? You are a trained Force-sensitive yourself, and you are neither Jedi nor Sith. Knight Skywalker's kidnapper could easily be someone of a similar caliber."

"Master Koon, do me a favor and skip the insinuations," I said. "If you really thought some other former Jedi kidnapped Skywalker, you wouldn't have bothered bringing me in. For your benefit, I'll say it again, slowly this time. I didn't kidnap Skywalker. I didn't _help_ to kidnap Skywalker, either. I am sure your Knights have already informed you, but I'm no longer Force-sensitive as I was when I trained at the Temple."

"They brought it up, yes. A very peculiar situation--your records indicate a gross strength in the Force just under the fiftieth percentile out of your peers, but your instructors reported you were competent in its use and perceptive to its will. Now, my Knights say you do not seem to be Force-sensitive at all. Would you elaborate on how such a change occurred?"

"No."

Master Koon laid his clawed hands on the table. "Kenobi. This interview will go much more easily if you are cooperative."

"I am cooperative, my dear. I'm answering all your questions peacefully and directly."

"You are peacefully and directly _refusing_ to answer my questions," Master Koon said.

I clasped my hands together. "I'm only obligated to answer regarding the charges under which you detained me, Master Koon. The destruction of evidence, the kidnapping, and the Dark Side usage. It is not a failing to stay on topic. You've already spoken on the last two, so why don't we move on to the first matter?"

Master Koon sighed and scrolled through his datapad. "Many of your former teachers said you were quite obstinate. I believe I sympathize with them."

"Really?" I asked. "I wasn't aware any of my teachers still remembered me. That was twenty-five years ago."

"Detective Kenobi, _I_ still remember you from when you were in the Temple, and I was not one of the Masters who had the honor of teaching you regularly," Master Koon said. "You were quite the troublemaker, I recall. You often got into fights with other Initiates."

Yikes. What a legacy to leave behind. A combative youngling who semi-regularly put other Initiates into the Halls of Healing. It seemed unlikely there was anything else to remember me by--my grades had been just above mediocre, I was awkward when speaking to others, and, lest I forget, I was too emotional and impulsive for Masters to even consider me as a Padawan. Once, it probably would have upset me to know I was remembered so poorly, but now it just annoying.

"I suppose it's worth saying I've changed since then," I said.

"Oh, of that I have no doubt," Master Koon replied. "But you are not entirely changed, either. It _is_ good, if surprising, to see you alive and well. Your departure from the Order was not immediately known, even to us on the High Council, and the circumstances surrounding it remain unclear to this day. Master Jinn has not been the most elucidating in that respect."

I could very much imagine not. At the best of times, getting a straight answer out of Master Jinn was like trying to get a rancor to be friendly; getting a straight answer when he _didn't_ want to talk about something was like trying to get that same rancor to host a delightful tea service.

"Yeah? And what did he tell you in his report?" I asked.

"He said that after the hardships on your mission, you could no longer uphold the Jedi Code and wished to leave the Order. He did not disclose your whereabouts, to respect your choices and your privacy. At the time, we erroneously believed he had returned you to your family. We were...displeased to learn, later on, that you had instead remained on the planet where your mission took place."

Not displeased enough to actually try and find me, though. Maybe Master Jinn interfered there, too, so no one would learn he'd left me for dead, or to save himself from having to find my body.

I felt bitterness welling up from deep inside, disturbing the Force through me like the first tremors of an earthquake. I took a deep breath and stilled it before it could escalate. With heavy Force suppressants on, thinking about Master Jinn was the _last_ thing I needed.

I smiled and it felt strained. _I_ felt strained. "Thanks for telling me. But as interesting as my past is, it's not what we're here for."

"Regrettably not. I admit I am curious to learn what has happened to you in the past twenty years, but you have made your desires quite clear, so I will continue the questioning." Master Koon tapped on his datapad to open up some file. "You were the one who informed us, through Padawan Tano, where Knight Skywalker had been taken. How did you know he had been taken to that building?"

The rest of the interrogation went much along those lines. Having made it clear that I would not answer unrelated questions, Master Koon graciously stuck to the topic, and I was spared his reminiscence on what may or may not have occurred twenty years ago.

Every so often, I felt a mental probe--not invasive, but irritating nonetheless--and had to shift the Force within me to let it pass through and away. I watched Master Koon for any sort of reaction to my psychic and verbal evasions, but he was either too controlled or too unfamiliar a species for me to make out much from his body language. It was very professional. No veiled threats or anything, which made it more pleasant than my usual arrests, but I couldn't help my rising agitation. Skywalker was rotting away in a hole somewhere, and the Jedi had nothing better to do than waste time--both theirs and mine.

"Just one more question, Detective Kenobi," Master Koon said after what had probably been an hour of questions.

I sighed. "Only one? I'm positively scandalized. How can I help you, dear?"

Master Koon set his datapad down. "Do you mean to harm Captain Rex or Padawan Tano?"

It was like the floor had fallen out from under me.

" _No!_ How could you even--" I choked on the words.

"Thank you," Master Koon said. "I appreciate the emphatic response."

Just like that, I felt myself _tip_. My emotional equilibrium, already precarious from hours of Force suppression, collapsed like a house of cards under my indignation. Blood rushed through my ears and the Force seared through my skin, throwing me hard against the back of my seat. "I'm glad you're happy," I ground out, trying to smooth my breathing even as I felt the Force swell uncontrollably from my amplified emotions, tilting me further off-balance.

Master Koon stood slowly. "Obi-Wan? Are you okay?"

I could barely hear him with the noise in my head.

"I was fine until you accused me of being a _traitor_ ," I said, or maybe said, still breathing through my teeth. I gripped my arms tightly, trying to ground myself in my body with any kind of physical sensation, but even that was far away now. I had to break the feedback loop, but there was nowhere to bleed off _to,_ no ground to siphon off my mental excess as the firestorm of Force raged higher and higher.

Master Koon moved closer, possibly saying something, but it was all noise now.

The last thing I saw before being ejected from my body was Master Koon rushing to grab me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In light of recent events, this is a friendly reminder not to take legal advice from a Star Wars fanfic, namely: Do not do what Obi-Wan does! In real life, do not talk to police without an attorney present!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan continues his stay in the Temple.

When I woke, I couldn't feel my body. I couldn't see or hear anything, either, but I could feel the Force. It was everywhere. Not the daytime psychic static I was so used to, or the nighttime screaming monster I had become so enamored of, but something soft and smooth, like music.

It felt like Light.

It felt like peace and hope and love and all the other things that would make me cry, and it wrapped me--wherever I was, whatever I was--tightly like I belonged there, because I _did._ It was home, it was the all between everything, it was the guidance in my veins and the wind at my back.

It pulled at my edges, to strip my shell layer by layer until I was nothing but Force and could finally feel peace. It soothed away my worries and pains, and moved on to my physical form, my attachments, my name--

_Obi-Wan Kenobi._

The name reverberated in me like a crashing bell, causing such a dissonance in the Force's song that it became horrible noise.

_Obi-Wan Kenobi._

That was my name. That was me. A good man with bad things in his hands. A bad man with good things in his heart. A soldier. An investigator. A survivor.

_Obi-Wan Kenobi._

I'd have mouthed it myself if I had a mouth to speak with, and I felt it course through me, burning the Force out from where it had leached into me. The Light pulled away, almost frightened in a way I knew Coruscant's gleaming monster never would be, until I was the only one left in my soul, and the only Force to make me was mine.

I had survived the full soul-rending and violent power of the Force years ago--the Temple's calm Light would _not_ rip me away from my identity. Not here. Not now.

I felt for the gossamer thread of my consciousness and traced it back to where I should be.

_Obi-Wan Kenobi._

I opened my eyes.

The sight of a very familiar ceiling greeted me. Somehow, I was in the Halls of Healing.

I could hear a monitor beeping slowly somewhere to my left, and in the distance, or perhaps very nearby and my hearing just hadn't quite synced up yet, I could hear yelling.

_"--suppressive cuffs on such a person do you even know what kind of damage you could have caused he'll be lucky if we can even reach him before his soul disintegrates and--"_

I kind of tuned the words out after that--they were about me, obviously, but they didn't seem relevant, and I still had to properly settle myself in the physical world. I went through the motions: breathing first, then fingers and toes, limbs, sensations.

When I had properly slotted back into my body, I sat up. I felt...not _good,_ but not bad, either, considering I'd been violently ejected from my body. Certainly much better than I usually felt after having to reconnect. I wondered how long this episode had lasted and spied a wall chrono reading 1452. That wasn't actually all that useful. It did not, for example, tell me what day it was.

I stretched my senses out, and realized with surprise that I _could_ \--some kind soul had removed the Force-suppressing cuffs. I breathed deep and let the Force flow into me. It did so eagerly, and felt calm and cool, like liquid Light that sparked as it filled my soul, full of all that serenity and peace I'd left behind twenty years ago. It made me want to cry. Maybe I did cry. That's nobody's business but my own.

I held it there for as long as I could stand it, then reluctantly siphoned the Light away before it began to pull me apart again, and was left feeling hollower than before. It made me sorely miss Coruscant's purifying noise. My relationship with Coruscant's psychic terrain was combative and sometimes bordered on violence, but at least it never made me feel like half a person.

The shouting was still going on.

_"--go in there and try to pull him back and if we manage to bring him in one piece you are going to apologize because this is an establishment of healing and justice and we do not recklessly endanger those who are brought upon our grounds even if they are under suspicion--"_

The door slid open with a swish, and the shouting cut off mid-sentence. Knight Vokara Che stood frozen in the doorway, staring at me. She looked almost exactly how I remembered her, blue skin and long lekku with a kind but firm unwavering presence like an endless ocean.

"Knight Che," I said. "Hello. It's been a while since we last spoke."

Knight Che scowled and stomped over to my side. "What are you doing up, you idiot boy? You shouldn't even be awake!"

"I've survived in Coruscant without shielding for ten years. I think I can manage the Temple just fine." I smiled at her, though it was still shaky. "I appreciate the concern, Knight Che."

" _Master_ Che," she corrected offhand. "I'm Chief Healer now, and I'm concerned for a very good reason. Now lay down." She wasted no time in pushing me back onto the bed and checking my vitals.

"Chief Healer? Congratulations on your promotion, however belated." I didn't honestly remember too much of Vokara Che, except that she'd been one of the only Healers willing to deal with my unruly youngling self. She had often lectured me on eating properly and not getting into so many fights--not to much effect. I wouldn't have thought her temperament was suitable for Chief Healer, but maybe that sternness of hers was more of a benefit than a detriment these days. "I didn't realize I was important enough to warrant attention from the Chief Healer."

"Your soul was severed from your body. If that doesn't warrant the Chief Healer, nothing does," Master Che said. She took down some notes in a datapad. "You said you've been in _Coruscant_ without shielding? You must be an absolute fool, Obi-Wan. A very talented and very resilient fool, but a fool nonetheless." She paused to take my pulse, then said, "You've recovered from this alarmingly easily. Does this happen to you often?"

"What do you classify as often?" I asked. "And what do you classify as 'this'? My soul usually disconnects a bit when I sleep, and sometimes when I meditate, but I don't completely separate more than a few times a month, under normal circumstances. The last few days have been a bit anomalous in that regard."

"A few times a _month?_ Obi-Wan, this is a medical emergency if it happens _once!_ " Master Che said. "A soul is not made to go into the Force like yours did! Most people simply stop _being_ and never make it back to their bodies. How in the Force did you come back that quickly?"

"Practice, mostly," I said. Master Che's dismayed expression informed me that was not an acceptable answer, so I tried to elaborate. "My connection to the Force isn't what it once was. I let it in and out, but it's not directly connected to me anymore. It makes the lines between myself and everything else a bit easier to see."

"Yes, and we'll be discussing that at length later on, young man," Master Che said. "Come here, Master Plo. Don't you have something to say to Obi-Wan?"

Master Koon shuffled over to my bedside, concern radiating off him in waves. It felt genuine. He bowed deeply--much more deeply than necessary, from a Master to a civilian. "I am truly sorry, Detective Kenobi. I did not realize using Force suppressants on you could cause such a dangerous situation, nor did I realize how strongly you would react to my accusation."

"It wasn't really the accusation so much as it had been a long day in strong Force suppressants--you couldn't have known. I'm awake and aware now, so no harm, no foul," I said. Then, remembering my manners, I added, "Thank you, Master Koon. I accept your apology. If you could please tell me how long I've been unconscious?"

"It has been just over two hours since you collapsed," Master Koon replied. Two hours wasn't bad at all. "We were scared you might be lost to us entirely, or for weeks at minimum."

That seemed a bit dramatic, but then I remembered my first ill-advised trip to Coruscant after the war where I blanked out for an entire month. It was never so bad after that, though--my severed connection to the Force probably made the whole soul and body thing a little easier to deal with.

The important thing was, I hadn't lost too much time, which meant Skywalker probably wasn't dead or Dark yet.

Slowly, I sat up again, and this time Master Che let me do so. "I suppose I ought to ask--am I still being detained?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Master Koon said. "But we will not return you to your holding cell, nor put you in Force suppressants again for what should hopefully be obvious reasons."

"You _still_ have questions to ask? I thought your interrogation was quite thorough."

"I'm honored you think so well of our interview technique," Master Koon said, "but while _I_ believe you have sufficiently explained your suspicious actions and knowledge and am satisfied that you have not concealed evidence--though your interference at the crime scene and disregard of due process is still an issue--some of our Masters still have outstanding concerns regarding the charges against you, and will need to impose on you once again."

It sounded like more waffling to keep me trapped in the Temple for as long as they could, but unfortunately there was nothing I could do about it. I _had_ provably broken into and taken critical evidence from the crime scene, even if the Jedi investigators wouldn't have known about the location without my informing them of it--a location I really had no good reason to know about in the first place. My holos didn't change that. If they had more questions, or believed it was reasonable to ask the _same_ questions again, they were well within their rights to hold me until the end of my standard day. In that sense, my waking so soon was quite inconvenient, since they could now still get me to incriminate myself.

I curled my fingers around my mechanical hand--the healers had stripped off my gloves along with all my other clothes when they'd changed me into one of the unfortunately drafty Hall robes. I asked, "Have you found Skywalker?"

"We have not," Master Koon said, clasping his claws together in front of him. "It has been quite the trying search. We have taken into account your advice that the kidnapper may be Sith, or at least using the Dark Side, but it is very difficult to track down such individuals--we suspect the Sith have ways to hide themselves in the Force."

"Oh, wonderful."

"Quite," Master Koon said. He peered at me carefully, both in the Force and physically--I could deflect the former, but not the latter. The attention made my skin crawl. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him. "Your assistance in searching for Knight Skywalker has been invaluable. If it were not for your help in locating the initial abduction site, we likely would not have found it for days yet. Thank you, Detective."

"Glad to help, I suppose. Kidnapping isn't really my jurisdiction."

Master Koon tilted his head to one side. "Then this case is unusual for you?"

"If I'd known this would lead to a kidnapping, I wouldn't have picked it up--I don't have any authority to make arrests and trying to can lose me my license. You probably already know that. Law enforcement doesn't appreciate private dicks moving in on criminal investigations. I'm sure you can sympathize," I said. "Why the interest?"

"Curiosity. Your clients speak well of your skills. I never imagined this path for you, but it seems to suit you."

"What did you expect?" I asked. "I'm sure all my former teachers told you I was far too restless to ever settle for a quiet life."

"It's been many years since I considered where you may have gone," Master Koon admitted. "Bounty hunting, perhaps?"

I peered at Master Koon. He was, as always, inscrutable both in body and in the Force. Whatever he was thinking, it was not for me to know. "Do I really seem like someone with that kind of temperament?"

Master Koon shrugged. "I don't know. But you were combative and resourceful when you were younger. Now, you are good at finding people, and bounty hunting would allow you to travel widely."

"Yes, but it also involves killing people for money. I'm offended you'd think me capable of that." Even when I'd worked with Jango, I had never actually taken a bounty. I'd come close--very close--but something so senseless as murder for credits was a line I couldn't cross.

Master Koon, perhaps deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, stayed silent.

I didn't have to keep talking--it was better not to, and Master Koon wasn't entitled to see any part of my soul. I could let the subject go and never have it mentioned again, but despite everything, I still respected most of the Jedi. I didn't care if they remembered me as a violent and disobedient youngling--that was their business--but a cold-blooded killer? I cared about that. I cared a lot. Killing for a cause didn't make me better or more moral than someone killing for a paycheck, but if the Jedi were going to repudiate me, it ought to be for the right reasons. I spoke.

"Master Koon," I said. "Do you know how many people you have killed in your life?"

The air went frigid at that as the Force stilled around Master Koon. "That's a very personal question, Detective."

"It is," I agreed. "I don't. I don't know everyone I've killed. A lot of them, I don't remember their faces because I never saw them. I don't even really regret killing them, because if I hadn't, more people would have suffered and I likely would have died. Nobody would begrudge me trying to save my own life."

"I see," Master Koon said.

"You will by the end of this war," I replied. "Don't misunderstand me. I made my choices and I don't regret them because they were the best paths available, but that doesn't mean it doesn't sometimes keep me up at night. I wonder if I didn't have better options or if that's just something I tell myself. It's a terrible feeling, Master Koon. It should be no wonder I'd pick a path where I can avoid that."

"And yet, you have selected a dangerous career that might yet force you to take a life."

He had a point, I guess. "Sure. I avoid it when I can, which is as much as anyone should do. I don't work with bounty hunters anymore. I use non-lethal force when I can afford to, which is almost always. But yes, sometimes my profession puts me in a position where I must weigh someone else's life against my own. A heavy and ignoble burden as you certainly know, Master Jedi."

Master Koon lowered his head. "Yes. It is a sad day when we must turn our sabers against sentients. As Jedi we always regret to take life, but we must bear that responsibility with dignity."

"There's nothing dignified about killing," I said. "I'd be happy to never do it again. Maybe somewhere out there in the wider universe, there's a world where you could ask everyone to lay down their arms and settle everything peacefully, and they would. But we don't live there. We live here, where chiselers prey on people who don't know better and go to war over greed or desperation or because conflict is all they have left. Not everyone can defend themselves. Not everyone can trust the law to defend them. They don't have the luxury to _choose_ if their life is worth more than their attackers. I can. That's why I'm in my work, as dangerous as it is."

"That's noble of you."

I shook my head. "It isn't. It's selfish. I do it because it pays the bills and helps me sleep at night, because if I don't do this kind of work I'll end up eating myself from the inside out. I tell myself it's fine because no matter my motivations, in the end I'm helping, if only a little."

Master Koon's attention sharpened on me, sending goosebumps all down my arms. Even with the goggles, I couldn't stand it--I turned away. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. "Kindness is not a weakness, Detective."

"It's not. I wish I had space in my heart for more of it."

"I think everyone does, one way or another."

I laughed. It sounded bad and felt bad coming out. "If you can still believe that, then you're a much better person than I am. I'm glad for you."

For this, Master Koon had no response at all.

* * *

Detention in the Halls of Healing was more pleasant than in the Temple holding cells. Nobody tried to put Force suppressants back on me, so it was easier to calm the Force under my skin, and I could see the chrono to keep track of the time. Instead of the ever-present camera, a Knight kept watch in my room. That was nothing less than expected, but it was uncomfortable now that I could feel the Force, and through it the Knight's constant attention like a tracing of fingers over my skin. It rather put me off my mediocre late lunch. I still finished it, obviously--I just didn't enjoy it. It was a relief when Master Che sent him out so she could discuss my health.

Apparently, what had happened to me in Melida/Daan was _not_ a typical reaction to being chronically overwhelmed by the Force. Considering typical reactions involved going mad or dying, I was okay with that not happening.

"I studied in Jedha for about a year," I explained as Master Che ran a few tests. Clearly, she was eager to update my medical file after my long absence. "Most Guardians don't have a direct connection to the Force the way Jedi do, but since the Force flows through everything, even acolytes who aren't Force-sensitive can learn to perceive the Force through the physical instead of the psychic plane. Very difficult, but very possible. As a result, many of their practices involve understanding the _currents_ of the outside Force instead of directly interpreting its will--a skill that generally takes years to master, but Force-sensitivity gives me an unfair advantage. I learned it a bit faster."

"Very different from what we teach at the Temple, then."

"Yes, very. Here, we're taught to let the Force guide us, to deepen our connection to it and let it shape us as people and as Jedi. The Guardians, conversely, emphasize the division between the self and the Force. They use mental and physical discipline to cultivate their spirit and create _synchronicity_ with the greater Force. It's an integral part of their worship, aiming to build one's self as the universe is built. As they say: I am one with the Force and the Force is with me."

"Interesting. Perhaps I should do some reading about these Guardians and their practices."

I nodded. "They were exceptionally hospitable during my stay--they let me in when I needed food and shelter and guidance and companionship, and allowed me to participate in their worship to the extent that I was able. They are, of course, extremely heretical to the modern Jedi doctrine, but that hardly mattered, since I'm not a Jedi. I owe them a great debt for their teachings and compassion."

"Then we all owe them a great debt, for protecting you and allowing you to return to our Halls, even if only temporarily," Master Che said. "You said that you are no longer capable of external Force usage, but shielding is not an external skill--even those who are Force null can accomplish it. Why don't you use any? Are you not capable of it?"

"Theoretically, I'm not _incapable,_ " I said. "The issue is that--how did they describe it?" I thought for a few moments to recall what the acolytes at Jedha had told me so many years ago. "It's not enough for someone to have the Force within them, to stay alive. The Force has to circulate through your body and soul. Like blood. People who are Force-sensitive have a much stronger flow, driven by their connection to the Force--that connection is like their heart. Without that connection, the flow slows or even stops, which is why very strong Force suppressants can hurt Jedi so much."

Master Che hummed thoughtfully. "A very interesting explanation for that phenomenon."

That sounded kind of patronizing to me, but what did I expect? Jedi were trained to understand the quality and intensity of the Force, not its motion in physical space, and why would they? The way the Guardians had taught me to read the Force was echolocation to a Jedi's full-color vision--inferior in almost every way. How was I supposed to explain the sideways way I saw the world to someone who would never need to?

I continued regardless. "I don't have that connection ever, anymore, but I'm still Force-sensitive. I need that flow or bad things happen. The easiest way for me to generate that flow is by opening myself to the Force around me and letting it in, then draining it out to ground--like putting myself in a voltage gradient. Even a little goes a long way. Shielding, like strong Force suppression, stops me from accessing the surrounding Force in that capacity. That forces me to generate flow in a closed loop within myself--the psychic equivalent of giving myself CPR, if I'm continuing with these analogies. It's possible, but difficult and very easy to tip over into a psychic feedback loop, as shown a few hours ago. Before I learned it was better _not_ to shield, I had a lot of incidents. Not that it matters much now--without my connection to the Force, something as strong as Coruscant presses much harder against my mind than it did when I was a Jedi. Trying to shield against it now is like trying to dam a raging waterfall with my body, with similar consequences."

Master Che had a pinched look on her face. "Obi-Wan, how in the world did you survive long enough to learn all this?"

"By the will of the Force, perhaps?" I rubbed my chin, thinking about those early days. "That was facetious, but there might be some truth to it. My...relationship with the Force isn't the same as it used to be, but it's still with me. Every time I've accidentally become one with the Force, I've come back. Maybe that means something. Maybe I'm just stubborn."

This, if anything, made Master Che even less happy. "You certainly are that," she said with a resigned tone of voice. She made a few notes in her datapad. "So you live in Coruscant with no shielding at all. I notice you are still sane, though your form of psychic management says otherwise. Can you explain that?"

"I can control the flow of the Force within me, so I can safely redirect the influx of the Force to pass through me without touching me if I have to--to a certain extent. I use the same method to avoid mental probes."

"In Coruscant," Master Che said skeptically.

"Yes?" It wasn't as if I had any other options besides moving to a different planet, which I didn't want to do. I _liked_ my home. "The Force is very strong from all the people, and it takes a while to acclimatize, but I find it pleasant, usually. It's difficult to feel the Force so strongly anywhere else."

Master Che still had her objections, but seemed to realize she wouldn't be able to argue me out of it and moved on to other parts of the exam. Physically, I was doing fine, if compensating for a number of older injuries--especially my bad shoulder, which had not healed completely in the absence of Temple-quality health care. When pressed, I told her about the rogue Darksider around the Outer Rim who stabbed me, which didn't make her happy. She didn't seem happy about most of the things I told her.

She went on to declare that I was much better at keeping myself fed than I had been twenty-some years ago, though clearly still getting into just as much trouble. I tactfully did not inform her my enthusiasm for regular meals stemmed from three years of chronic hunger on Melida/Daan--a lack of well-developed agriculture made food scarce, and even when we _had_ enough food I had frequently passed it on to the younger ones who needed it more. I didn't think she'd like that either.

"You could stand to get some more sleep, though," she tutted.

I sighed. "Master Che, believe me, these past few days that has _not_ been my fault."

After that, she ran diagnostics on my hand and examined my neural port. She told me I really ought to stop squeezing it so much or the internal connectors would get misaligned. That wasn't anything I didn't already know, but also not an easy habit to break--back when my connectors _were_ misaligned, squeezing the port had become my go-to grounding sensation because it made all my nerves light up at once and _that_ got me back in my body faster than a flash of lightning. I'd gotten a more robust port at my next re-fitting, but the habit itself never really went away.

Master Che, after she heard this, ran more extensive scans on my right arm. They were unnecessary, but they seemed to make her feel better and we had an educational conversation about cybernetics in the meantime. I had never had much of a head for mechanics, beyond what was necessary to stay alive out in the galaxy and to repair my hand, so it was nice to learn a few things about cybernetics from a biomechanical standpoint. It was certainly preferable to interrogation. Then, in a move which utterly perplexed me, Master Che started taking schematics of my hand.

"This is standard procedure for everyone with a cybernetic prosthesis," she said as she used the Force to explode my detached hand. Phrik plating and linear actuators and all the other pieces of my hand hovered above us in lazy circles as Master Che ran her scans. "Since you received yours outside the Temple, we don't have the information necessary to repair it if it gets broken."

"That's all very well, but I'm not a Jedi, Master Che. I'm hardly your responsibility anymore." I tried not to look at Master Che's work directly--it was not entirely comfortable to see my hand disassembled so dramatically by someone who was not my technician. I rubbed my neural port irritably. I hadn't gotten phantom pain since the second amputation, but having my hand removed or damaged felt uniquely uncomfortable, like a numb pressure from the lack of what little haptic feedback it usually provided.

"Obi-Wan, you may no longer be a Jedi, but you will always be one of the Temple's children. Even if you are not part of the Order, you will always have a family and home here."

I frowned. I wasn't about to deny that the Temple had been my family and home _once,_ but to presume it still was was quite the stretch. I hadn't felt like it back when my war ended, and after twenty-two years of complete radio silence, it certainly didn't feel like it now. I had no friends in the Temple anymore--people who had _been_ my friends once, perhaps, but too much time had passed, and too much had happened since. I wasn't the same person, and neither were they.

Master Che seemed to have some measure of my thoughts and sighed. "We did not support you the way we should have, when you left. This was partially due to our confusion over the circumstances of your departure, but also cruel negligence on our part. We should have put in more effort to find you, and by the time Master Jinn told us enough to understand what may have happened to you, and to narrow down where you might be, we truly believed it was too late. Had we known you were still alive, we would have offered our support."

There it was again, the reminder that Master Jinn never meant for me to survive my war. I wondered if he'd always been so cruel or if it was something about me that had brought it out.

"I doubt it--I left to fight a war," I said.

Master Che's face fell, and the hovering pieces of my hand shuddered in the air. Slowly, Master Che floated them back into their rightful places, bolts and connectors snapping back into place. My prosthesis, whole once again, dropped into Master Che's hands, and she looked at me, devastated. "You fought in a _war?_ "

"I didn't just _find_ all those scared and dying people that made me try to sever my connection to the Force," I said. "If you're truly interested in what happened, you can look up Melida/Daan. You might even find what I did there, though I can't imagine you'll approve. I don't really want to discuss it."

"Oh, _Force,_ " Master Che said. Even with her shielding, I could feel an incredible sorrow drifting off of her like foam off of cresting waves. "I'm so sorry, Obi-Wan."

"It's not your crime to forgive. I made my choices, and I didn't come here looking for restitution."

"No, but I suspect no one else will apologize for what has happened to you," she said. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be. I've let it go."

Master Che's gaze slid away from me and off into the distance as she activated my prosthesis for reattachment. "So you have. Perhaps that is a lesson we taught you too well."

Just then, there was a knock on the door and my Knight guard, the white-haired human, stepped in. "Master Che," he said with a respectful bow. "There is a Master to see the detainee for questioning."

"That Master can very well wait until I am finished speaking to my patient," Master Che said curtly.

The Knight grimaced. "That's what I said, but he has been very...insistent. He won't go away. I was hoping you could--"

"What is this nonsense? I will not be prevented from speaking to my own Padawan!" said a very familiar voice from the hallway.

I closed my eyes. Of course.

I heard him sweep into the medical room like he owned it, then freeze when he properly noticed me. I didn't want to look at him--would have been happy to never look at him again--but he was not an easy man to ignore in the best of times. I bit the bolt and faced him.

Master Qui-Gon Jinn.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan has a long overdue conversation.

There was a long, tense silence, heavy with the weight of our twenty-two years apart. It was strange, being in Master Jinn's presence again--he didn't feel the same as I remembered. Not because he had changed, necessarily, but because _I_ had. The rich earthy feeling in the Force I'd so intimately known and associated with him in my youth was gone, replaced by the slow currents that revolved around him the way I now felt the Force. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend he was someone else entirely--a stranger. With the time we'd spent apart, we might as well be that.

Master Jinn was the first to break the silence. "Obi-Wan, your _hand._ What happened?"

"I believe that is none of your business, Master Jinn," I said.

Master Jinn bristled. "Padawan--"

"I am also not your Padawan," I said. "If you want to address me, you may use either of my names or my title, which is 'Detective' or an equivalent. Master Jinn." To Master Che, I said, "You might as well reconnect it now. He's not going to leave."

Master Che glared at Master Jinn hard enough to make him back off a few steps, then obligingly snapped my hand back into place.

Nerves fired like a bombshell against my senses, blanking out my vision. My jaw snapped shut, nearly biting my tongue. It took several seconds until my sight cleared and the sensation in my arm faded to a deeply uncomfortable bone-deep itch.

I clenched my hand to even out the signals and grimaced. Over a thousand years of technological advancements and cybernetic reconnection was _still_ unpleasant every time. "Master Che, you could have given me a countdown to brace myself."

"I'll keep it in mind for next time," Master Che said.

Shaking my head, I ran a connection check and tested each finger for full range of motion and haptic feedback. You only have to get screwed by connector misalignment _once_ to get in the habit of checking every time for the rest of your life.

As I did so, Master Jinn stepped to the side of my bed. He towered over me, much as he always had, his presence immovable like an ancient tree or a mountain. His shields felt still and locked tight, with no emotional turbulence at all that I could detect. His expression was serene and blank, his graying hair was let down as always, and he wore traditional tan robes that were probably older than I was--the image of a perfect, if somewhat inelegant, Jedi.

Somewhere in the back, the Knight seemed to have scurried away, apparently not eager to see whatever confrontation was about to occur. Smart man.

"So, Master Jinn," I said, massaging my neural port. "I am detained, as you petitioned Master Koon last night. What questions do you have?"

Master Jinn's eyes narrowed. "Who told you _I_ petitioned Master Koon?"

"No one. While Master Koon easily could have decided on his own to bring me in for questioning due to my suspiciously comprehensive knowledge surrounding Skywalker's kidnapping and my choices regarding interactions with the crime scene, _you_ are the only one who would accuse me of Dark Side use. You also have a vested interest in seeing me arrested, due to my interaction with your Grandpadawan and your vehement if extremely incorrect assumption that I kidnapped Skywalker," I said. "It was not a difficult deduction to make. Lucky for you, I didn't have a verifiable alibi for Skywalker's kidnapping. Unlucky for me."

"There is no luck, only the Force," Master Jinn recited. He looked over to Master Che, who was still sitting beside me. "Master Che, could you please give us some privacy?"

"I would prefer she didn't," I said. "Anything you have to say can be said in front of her. A third party is supposed to monitor interrogations anyways."

That was not the real reason I wanted Master Che there. It didn't take prescience to tell this conversation would become uncomfortable, and it would make me feel better to have at least one person on my side. She didn't need me to tell her that--she was smart enough. She nodded to me and clasped her hands in her lap, very clearly not moving from her seat.

Master Jinn frowned and slipped his hands into his sleeves. " _Interrogations?_ Do you truly think so poorly of the Temple?"

"I'm not thinking any way or the other. I've been detained and you're questioning me for information. That's what an interrogation _is._ " I started working through the motion in my mechanical wrist. It was smoother than I was used to, without the usual hitch when switching from flexion to extension; Master Che must have cleaned it when she took it apart. "You have my mostly undivided attention for the first time in twenty-two years, Master Jinn. Make use of it--it's probably the only chance you'll ever get. Ask what you have to ask."

"Very well," Master Jinn said. "I would like to know what you have done since you...left the Order."

"Funnily enough, _that_ isn't your business, either," I said.

"Am I not your Master? I think you owe me at least an explanation."

I scoffed. "Really? Master Jinn, you stopped being my Master when we severed our training bond at Melida/Daan. You have a lot of nerve to demand _anything_ after you left me for dead."

Master Jinn's expression remained inscrutable. "I did no such thing. You left _me,_ Obi-Wan."

"Yes, as it turns out, I said the same until recent facts came to light," I said. "If you wanted to be rid of me so badly, you could have sent me back to the Service Corps, you know. They'd have ostracized me for the repudiation, but better that than dead, I'm sure you can agree. Or was it just convenient to let me go when I wished to stay on a planet embroiled in civil war? You could cite the will of the Force, the way you always do. No fault would fall on you, from a certain point of view."

"Don't put words in my mouth. You stood against me," Master Jinn replied, voice tight. "You made your choice, and I respected that. Surely you can see that?" 

"Would you say the same if I had tried to throw myself from the Temple spire? There's a stark difference between respecting the choices of the youngling under your care and sending them off to a slow suicide. If it was so important to eliminate me, then you ought to have done it with your own saber, Master Jinn. It would have been more honest."

Master Jinn went pale. "Obi-Wan. I--I _never_ wanted you to die."

"Then why is my survival so incomprehensible to you?" I snapped back. "If not because you knew--or believed you knew--I would die on that Force-forsaken planet?"

"You _did_ die."

My lip curled back into something nasty. "Really? How peculiar, considering I feel very alive right now. As I have for the last twenty-two years since I left the Jedi Temple. What would you propose this is?" I asked, gesturing broadly to myself. "Would you have me be a clone of your long-dead apprentice? Or some kind of ghost or obscure Force construct or invading spirit, created by the Sith to steal this body and torment you personally? I assure you, Master Jinn, I am wholly myself. This is the same flesh and soul that you left behind and never returned for."

Master Jinn stared at me intently, trying to discern the truth to my words, as if my simple existence was some kind of horrible impossibility. The Force swirled slowly around him, devoid of emotion as it reached out to me.

I let his Force pass through me, and Master Jinn went rigid. "What did you just do?" he demanded.

"If I want you to know my thoughts, I'll tell them to you in my own voice," I said.

Master Jinn's jaw tightened and he leveled his hard gaze on me. "I see. Obi-Wan--if you really are Obi-Wan--what _happened?_ How did you survive? How did you become this?"

What an utterly incomprehensible question when I hadn't a clue in the first place what he thought I _was._ A broken man? A Darksider? A kidnapper and murderer? Whatever wavelength Master Jinn was operating on, it was nowhere near mine.

It wasn't until I felt the Force swell around Master Jinn and reach out to get some measure of me that I realized he probably meant whatever Force anomaly I'd become. To Master Jinn, who used to have a direct connection to my mind, my current state of apparent Forcelessness probably made me feel as foreign to him as he did to me, even ignoring my ability to become invisible to his senses--a decidedly non-Jedi skill. A Jedi Master trusted the Force more than all their other senses combined; as attuned to the Living Force as Master Jinn was, he might not even be able to perceive me as a _person_.

He kept trying to reach for me in the Force with an insistence bordering on compulsive, like a man trying to catch smoke between his fingers. He might not even know he was doing it. I could have allowed contact, but didn't--I wasn't obligated to sacrifice my privacy for his peace of mind. He had taken enough from me already, and I was tired of making concessions.

"I was in a war, as you well know," I said. "Everything after that is none of your business. You're no longer my Master. I don't owe you anything."

"Is that so?" Master Jinn asked. "Does our history mean nothing to you? Was it simply a severing of our training bond and a closed chapter of your life? You would so easily throw away the Padawanship you fought so hard for?" Inexplicably, he sounded genuinely offended.

That was hardly fair. It had taken the better part of five years to come to terms with my departure from the Jedi Order. I still thought about it _now_ , though not so much since I stopped believing in the will of the Force and gave up my vows. I didn't see why Master Jinn was so up-in-arms about it--it wasn't _proper_ for a Jedi Master to get indignant over such a short year of apprenticeship, especially one he had ended himself.

"If I recall," I said, "last night, _you_ were the one who said I never should have been your Padawan."

Master Jinn's mouth twisted. "Don't throw my words back at me. That isn't what I meant."

"Then what _did_ you mean? Use your words, Master Jinn. Last I heard, you were still a diplomat of some renown. Explain what in the world you're trying to get from me, because you're upset I've moved past my apprenticeship and you're upset I haven't moved past my apprenticeship. You say I'm dead but you say I was never meant to die. You believe my Padawanship was a mistake and you believe my Padawanship was _extremely important_. You've thrown around so many different meanings that you have lost all meaning entirely. I would expect this kind of talk in the Senate, not from you, Master Jedi."

Something curled against Master Jinn's shields, a flash of anger or indignation or something stronger. "Don't take that tone with me, Obi-Wan. I may not be your Master, but I will be afforded respect, the same as any other Jedi Master of my rank."

Master Che tensed beside me. She probably felt Master Jinn's agitation, too, and more acutely at that.

"Master Jinn, I don't know how I could _be_ more respectful without having to prostrate myself--which I think we both know I won't do," I said. "I don't profess to understand your experience of the year we spent together, but from my side you were grim, stubborn to the point of senselessness, and rarely noticed me."

"That is _not_ true."

"It is. If you recall, our apprenticeship began because I offered to detonate my own slave collar to secure your escape, and I was ready to do it with or without your say-so." I ignored Master Che's reactive shock and disgust and continued, "I spent the entire year after that trying to prove I was good, I was valuable, and nothing like Xanatos. And for what? Constant reprimands on how my skills fell short? A string of disappointed sighs when I, a thirteen-year-old, could not keep up on a mission that was beyond my capabilities? A short conversation at the edge of a spaceship ramp and not even a cursory attempt to dissuade me from trying to leave the Order for an active war zone? Master Jinn, you proved quite thoroughly that you did not want me."

"That is _not_ true. I did not wish to see you dead or removed from my care. I acted so I would not see you Fall to the Dark Side as Xanatos had," Master Jinn said. "I see I have failed even that."

Master Che frowned. "Qui-Gon. Surely you don't think Obi-Wan is Dark."

Master Jinn turned on her. "Then how do you explain _this,_ Master Che? How is he back after all these years? Why does he feel less than null in the Force? Look at him! There's _nothing_ in him!"

Well, that was rude. Poor choice of words aside, it was possible. I never knew how I felt to Jedi, so maybe I felt more void than invisible since I wasn't letting the Temple's Force flow through me like I usually would. That would unsettle just about anyone.

"Obi-Wan has lived through some great hardships, Qui-Gon," Master Che said. "You would do well to not dismiss them out of hand."

"Has he?" Qui-Gon shot back. "I'm not convinced he _lived_ through them at all!"

I cut in before Master Che could respond. "My relationship with the Force has changed drastically since my time in the Temple, but I believe you will find--and the investigators as well as Master Che may tell you the same--that I _am_ alive in all the ways that matter and I have _not_ Fallen, though I dare say my success in that regard is in spite of you and not because of you. You have not seen me raised to become a Knight, either, but I suppose your devotion to fighting the Dark Side superseded that. Congratulations, Master Jedi." I applauded him softly. "Look me in the eyes and tell me: Was it worth it? Did you make the right choice? Is this what you wanted from your apprentice?"

Master Jinn did not look me in the eyes. "No. When I took you on, when the Force willed us to be together, I saw that you would become a Knight. Honorable. Courageous. A beacon of Light and a shield to all those who needed it. I would have taken you there, if you hadn't betrayed me." Only then did he raise his gaze to meet mine. "Why didn't you return? If you were alive all this time, why didn't you come back to the Temple? Why didn't you come back to me?"

I snorted at his audacity. "It took three and a half years to end the war. Even a maverick such as yourself would be hard-pressed to take on a seventeen-year-old who had committed more murder and violence than just about any member of this Order. I won't pretend all of it was justifiable--it wasn't. If you rejected me at twelve for my anger and lack of control, you surely would have rejected me at seventeen for the same reasons and many more. Did you just want to repudiate me in person?" I asked, my voice as hard as it ever was. "Master Jinn, if you'll recall, _you_ are the one who told me there was no turning back if I handed you my lightsaber. Maybe you didn't take those words to heart, but I did. Did it not occur to you I might not want to return to a Master who abandoned me?"

It was truth, but not the whole of it. I _had_ wanted to return to the Temple after the war ended and the Young sent me away. My friends were there. My family was there. My _home_ was there--or at least it was the last place I'd felt safe, which was close enough. But it was just as true that I would not have returned for Master Jinn. Not then, and not ever again.

It didn't matter. At that point in my life, I was physically incapable of stepping on Coruscant without getting eviscerated by the psychic noise. I found that out the hard way.

I clasped my hands. "Master Jinn, what did you _think_ would happen when you left me on Melida/Daan?"

"You were meant to come back," Master Jinn said. "It would have been an important lesson in humility and to not interfere in matters you could not change. The hardship would have seen you become a great Jedi."

His voice was rock-steady, like Melida/Daan was just any other mission. As if I hadn't killed and starved and lost everything there. As if I hadn't intimately felt so many deaths against my soul that I still sometimes tasted it on the back of my throat. As if I hadn't dreamt of bombs and fire and the smell of burning flesh and ion discharge only last night, a whole twenty-one years after the battle had ended.

It took a lot to get me mad, but this--this made it.

"It would have seen me permanently traumatized!" I snapped. "You left me to become a child soldier! If that _hardship_ is what you think is necessary to become a Jedi, then I am glad to not have that opportunity, Master Jinn." I sneered. "If this is how you train all your apprentices, it's no wonder Skywalker's so close to Falling."

Master Jinn's jaw clenched dangerously. Mentioning Skywalker under the circumstances was not kind, and I knew it. I wasn't feeling kind. "So this is about Anakin, then? You were content to suffer in silence until my next Padawan was Knighted, then conspired to take him away from me out of revenge?"

" _Revenge?_ Why is the only version of my life you can imagine one where I either died horribly or suffered for years because you weren't in it?" I shot back. "Just because _you_ find it impossible to let go of the one time you were horribly betrayed doesn't mean _I_ have the same problem!" I paused to breathe deeply and re-settle the agitated Force beneath my skin. "I only found out about Skywalker's existence two days ago because _he_ came to _me_. My point in bringing him up is that to you, everything is _about_ you. Everything can be justified if _you_ think it's right, even if it means going back on your principles, even if it means causing irreparable damage to the students you've vowed to protect. _This is what attachment means,_ Master Jinn."

"Don't lecture me on the dangers of attachment."

"Clearly nobody else will," I said. "Your _attachment_ to Xanatos poisoned my Padawanship and your _attachment_ to Skywalker's poisoned his. You've blinded yourself to his faults, _of which there are many_. That idiot was ready to _kill_ someone that day he hired me. But I suppose you don't think that's so bad. It's _revenge,_ after all. Righteous anger is righteous, no matter what the Jedi doctrine says. Isn't that so, Master Jinn?"

Master Jinn straightened, pulling himself even higher as he looked down at me, his face a stone mask. His presence became heavier, almost oppressive with the haughty Force that oozed through his shields. "Perhaps you should have stayed at the Temple. Evidently, you would have had quite the career as a lecturer, presuming to know more than a _Jedi Master_ about the Order's doctrine. Let's not forget which of the persons present are Jedi and which are not, _Detective._ "

"I may not be a Jedi, but I know about anger and vengeance," I said softly. "Would it please you to know, Master Jinn, that I was angry at you for a long time? I was angry you never returned for me. I was angry you never loved me. I was angry that no matter what I did, the greatest value I would ever have for you was my death."

Master Jinn sucked a breath in through his teeth.

"You failed me, Master Jinn. Thoroughly and in all ways. I've had a lot of time to think about it, but you know what? It doesn't matter anymore. I held onto those reasons and all that anger because it was the only thing I had left of my past. I carried them with me after I left the Temple, trying to find my place in the galaxy. For _years._ That's how long it took to realize I was _not happy_. All those old wounds weren't helping me. They weren't making me a better person and they weren't helping anyone else. All they did was hurt me." I took a deep breath. "So I chose to let it go. Piece by piece, I chose to leave behind what I could have been. Chose to leave behind you and everyone else who could have and probably _should have_ done better. Chose to leave behind all the anger that had kept me together since Xanatos put that bomb around my neck in Bandomeer.

"Was it easy? No! But I did it because I was tired of hurting, and I made a new life for myself that's all mine. I had a lot of help, from a lot of people, and none of them were you. When I decided ten years ago to come back to Coruscant for good, it wasn't because of you, Master Jinn. It wasn't because of the Jedi or some dreams of a different world where I could be a Knight Kenobi or maybe even a Master Kenobi. It was because Coruscant was the only real home I'd ever known, and I wanted it to be my home again, and I was finally in a position where I could do what _I_ wanted with my life.

"So don't tell me my apprenticeship didn't matter. Don't tell me my moving past our terrible year together means I didn't value it enough. Don't act like my avoiding the Dark Side was _your_ struggle or _your_ victory. I don't owe you anything. Not my anger or my forgiveness or my explanations. Our lives diverged when we parted ways on Melida/Daan, Master Jinn, and I no longer have anything to prove to you."

I was breathing hard at the end of all this, my heart hammering against my chest. Master Che put a hand on my arm to steady me, pressing against me in the Force with her unbreakable calm. I appreciated the effort. I took a deep breath and leaned into it to still my adrenaline-shakiness.

I hadn't meant to say all that, especially not to Master Jinn. I think I just hated to know he still saw me all wrong. To him, I had always been some set piece in _his_ story, either a villain or a disappointment or something else. Insignificant and expendable and easy to forget entirely, or so I'd thought.

It was clear now that the opposite had occurred. I was more than _just_ another failure or _just_ another betrayal. I was another _Xanatos_ \--a deep shame. He'd gotten it into his head that I'd died and that _haunted_ his every step, his every decision. How much of the past twenty years had he laid awake, hating me and himself in turn, wishing that I had been a better Padawan or he a better Master? How long had he regretted and wondered who I could have become after all this time--a Darksider like Xanatos or the naïve and loyal youngling he'd known as a Padawan--until this hypothetical me had ensnared him so thoroughly that I could stand before him in the flesh now and he _still_ couldn't see me.

I guess, even after all this time, I had to try and make him understand. Just once, so I knew I'd made the effort.

Master Jinn's face was bloodless white. "So you hate me," he said, resigned.

"Have you heard _anything_ I just said? Let me put it in as plain language as I can: I don't hate you. I'm not angry at you. _I don't care about you._ "

He reeled back as if physically struck, and his Jedi mask shattered into something like desolation. "Is that really what you think?"

"I loved you once. I would have continued loving you if you had ever come back, even if you punished me all the way to Knighthood or never forgave me for leaving, because at least you would have come back for me when no one else ever did. Even if you never loved me, I would have been your Padawan, and as long as I was that I could be _useful._ That would have been enough. But that time is gone. I cut my braid and renounced my vows and stepped off the path of becoming a Jedi. It's not my fault you took me for granted, Master Jinn," I said.

"I never meant for that to happen."

"You seem to do a lot of things you don't mean," I told him. "Rest assured, all these years I've never thought of you as actively evil or malicious. Maybe you truly never meant to hurt me, but that doesn't change the fact that you did."

Something in that seemed to strike Master Jinn deeply, and all at once, his righteous indignation fell away. He practically crumbled there in front of me, his tremendous presence withering and his posture falling, as if the entire world had just disintegrated before him, and him with it. The old pain and regret he'd carried every time he thought of Xanatos, twenty years back, was fresh upon his face and in the Force, and for a mountain of a man, he suddenly looked quite small.

I didn't like to see it. To me, Master Jinn had always been a pillar of strength, despite all of his mistakes and often _because_ of them, too. Only Master Tahl had ever made him stand down, and even then, Master Jinn did so love to be very loudly wrong with complete confidence. I had realized, in the intervening time since our separation, that Master Jinn was as human as anyone, but it was disquieting to see the evidence so starkly firsthand.

Master Jinn was hurting, had been hurting for a long time since before he ever met me. Where I had let go of my pains and purged my wounds, Master Jinn had clutched his tight, holding onto them until they stripped his flesh to bone. I could see him now, with his powerful facade ripped away--like a rotting sea vessel with a torn keel, picked over by scavengers after years and years of mistakes and failures. I was just another one of them.

I felt sorry for him, truly and fully. That was one thing I'd never been able to let go of, even after I shed the anger and the hate and dreams of retribution. Even after all that, even for Master Jinn, I was sorry for another tragedy I couldn't have prevented and couldn't yet fix.

I was sorry to turn my back on him, but he was not--had never been--my responsibility. My good will for him had run dry decades ago.

"What do you want from me, Obi-Wan?" Master Jinn asked, sounding so very tired.

"Nothing," I said. "I told you. I'm not here for revenge and I'm not here for your apologies. I've said my piece and I said my goodbyes, back when they were final and meant something. Think whatever you want, if it'll make you feel better. Think that I cared too much about my apprenticeship or too little or it was too bad or too forced or too rushed or _whatever._ Think that I'm still _dead_ for all I care. Whatever you need to convince yourself you made the right choices. Or you can get the help you desperately need and _finally_ move past all of this--the Jedi Temple is full of resources, I understand. But I can't make that choice for you and I can't offer you the absolution or retribution you crave for wounds you've inflicted upon yourself."

This was not, apparently, what Master Jinn wanted to hear, because he seemed to shrink even further. "I _am_ sorry," he said, as if it hurt him to say it. From pride or regret, I couldn't say. "You're not Xanatos. When I took you on, I swore I wouldn't love you so you couldn't betray me like he did, but I failed. I _did_ love you, Obi-Wan. You were impulsive and emotional and you had your faults, but you had so much _love._ You would have moved worlds to make others happy and that was a light in my life in a time when I had none. When you left, I missed you constantly, and when you died, I--" He choked on the words, then exhaled heavily. "I don't know. I loved you. I still do."

His emotions lay bare in the Force--sorrow, regret, and yes, perhaps even love. He believed it with all his heart, but it didn't mean anything to me. All the words and apologies wouldn't change how I remembered my Padawanship--not the humiliation, not the coldness, not the looming expectation that I'd one day exchange my life for his. The damage was already done.

"You don't," I said. "You love the ghost of a thirteen-year-old boy who was devoted to you and the Jedi Order. I'm not him anymore. Frankly, Master Jinn, if you truly loved me, then that love left me abandoned in the middle of a war. I don't want it."

Master Jinn's gaze drifted down to the floor. "I'm...sorry. I don't understand what's happened to you or _how_ you could end up like..." He trailed off, lips twisting into a pained grimace. Once more, he tried to reach for me in the Force, only to uselessly pass through. "Maybe you aren't Dark and I shouldn't have assumed so, but you were back from the dead after so many years, just like _him._ I couldn't take the risk. Anakin is the only apprentice I have now, and now he has his own Padawan... I have to protect them, you understand."

Maybe I did, but having one's heart in the right place didn't absolve guilt or wrongdoing. That was a lesson I had learned many times over the hard way.

"The thing you need to protect Skywalker from is himself," I said. "He's arrogant and inconsiderate--and I'm not just saying that because he keeps waking me up before dawn. His attachment issues are even worse than yours, as is his complete disrespect for the Jedi Code. If he hasn't Fallen yet, I suspect it will not take much for him to do so."

A sliver of Master Jinn's righteous indignation surfaced again. "Don't sling accusations. You don't know Anakin."

"I might not know everything about Skywalker, but I _have_ investigated his case for two days now," I said. "Have you noticed his friendship with Senator Amidala?"

Master Jinn went rigid and his gaze darted to where Master Che was sitting, still calmly observing our conversation. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do, Master Jinn. Skywalker is a lot of things, but he's not subtle. All the evidence I have so far is circumstantial, but very convincing. I suspect I'll have the decisive proof in hand when I'm released."

"Is that a _threat?_ "

"I'm an investigator, not a blackmailer. Rest assured, if Skywalker's indiscretions become publicized, it won't be through me. I'm only mentioning it to you because you're still his Master, and because I have strong suspicions someone is actively trying to make him Fall," I said. 

"He wouldn't," Master Jinn said. "Anakin is the Chosen One who will bring balance to the Force. He's very strong in the Light--stronger than anyone I've ever met. He would never go to the Dark Side. He is destined for great good. The Force wills it so."

He said it with the faith of a man who didn't just _believe_ in it, but _needed_ it to be true, lest the galaxy collapsed around his ears one final, cataclysmic time. Skywalker's goodness was a lifeline, his salvation and penance for all his past mistakes, like succeeding with Skywalker where he'd failed with Xanatos and me could make everything better, and Master Jinn had staked that last hope, that _burden_ on a nine-year-old youngling. Nobody deserved that. Not me, not Skywalker.

It was disappointing, but not surprising, that Master Jinn had learned nothing from his mistakes after so long. I wondered how much Skywalker knew about his beloved Master.

"Master Jinn," I said, "destiny and the will of the Force have nothing to do with it--using the Dark Side is a choice, and the thing about choices is they're very easy to make when you're made to only see one option. Skywalker is angry and impulsive at the best of times. I would think a Sith--if it really is a Sith who's kidnapped him--would know how to apply leverage better than anyone."

Master Jinn's hand went to his throat, strangely. "The Sith wouldn't break him. He's vowed to protect the Republic and the Order at any cost."

"The funny thing about a vow to protect something 'at any cost' is that it's one you can only truly make once. You should ask yourself which one was Skywalker's," I said.

Master Jinn's expression went cold. "I won't stand to hear you insult my Padawan like this."

I shrugged. This was not the hill I would die on, and I had made my good faith effort. "Very well. I thought I ought to tell you, since you presumably care about him and he might even listen to you. Act however you choose. You're not obligated to listen to me, especially not since we parted ways on Melida/Daan."

"No, I dare say I am not."

He seemed to have nothing else to say.

Instead of responding, I sighed and turned away. I was tired. Tired of him, tired of this conversation, tired of everything involving this case. I wanted to leave and never come back to these hallowed halls. They weren't for me anymore--they hadn't been for a long time now, and the only thing the people here brought me was bad feelings. Master Jinn especially. Surely he had something better to do than antagonize me one last time. Finding Skywalker or harrassing the Council, maybe. Anything else, as long as it wasn't here.

"Where is Master Tahl?" I asked. "Everyone in the Temple must know I'm here now. I thought she would have wanted to visit."

Pain flickered across Master Jinn's face. "She died."

Oh. Besides Master Jinn, Master Tahl was the last Jedi I saw before I left the Order. She'd been unconscious and injured from her captivity on Melida/Daan, and Master Jinn had already prepared the ship to take her back to the Temple. For me, the choice had been to assist the Young and leave the Order or to abandon them to their fates; for Master Jinn, the choice had been to fight a strangers' war or to get his lover to urgent medical care. Apparently, even with Master Jinn's choices, he had not been fast enough to save her. Her injuries must have been more dire than I realized.

I bowed my head. "My condolences. I know you loved her deeply."

"She is one with the Force." The platitude sounded hollow--clearly, Master Jinn's grief had not subsided since Master Tahl's passing. For all the things I disliked about him, I could not begrudge him that.

"Dead but not forgotten. May you carry her memory with love, through good times and bad."

Master Jinn's expression folded into something like confusion, then sorrow. "Thank you," he said, turning his head away.

That's when I saw it--a scar on the side of Master Jinn's throat, just above the junction with the shoulder, barely visible over his robe's collar. It was a straight and broad burn with ragged edges, and old. It looked like it came from a branding iron, or...a lightstaff.

A flash of a dream crystallized before me.

"Master Jinn," I said, my voice sounding very far away. "Eleven years ago at Naboo, did you fight the Sith in the palace reactor chamber?"

Master Jinn snapped back towards me, startled. "What? Where did you hear that? I only ever reported that to the Council."

My heart dropped. There had been many questions in the past I had not wanted to know the answers to, plenty of cases that would have been best left unsolved, but I had pushed forward regardless because I believed in the truth and I believed in my duty. It was with that same swooping feeling in my stomach and a slow onset of pure dread that the final piece to the puzzle fell into place and everything snapped violently into focus.

I knew who the kidnapper was.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan tracks down a kidnapper.

The problem of knowing _who_ and _why_ and _how_ was that it did not tell me _where._

In that sense, I had made no progress at all. All the revelations in the world would not help us find Skywalker if we didn't have a _location._

I paced my medical room back and forth, thinking. What threads remained that the Jedi didn't already have? They were already looking for the Sith with the Force and everything they had to offer, and hadn't found him. What did _I_ have? A name? A face? Useful, but not enough information to find someone if they didn't have records, and I kind of doubted a homeless Sith would take time out to fill tax forms.

I didn't know where to start--Coruscant was so large that even yesterday's cross-referenced list of Force-suppressing locations in Coruscant would take too long to comb through. I needed a wide net to narrow down Skywalker's current location. I needed eyes on the ground.

I needed to make a comm.

There were no communication devices in my room except the Healer's call button, and I was alone with the Knight guarding me--Master Che had escorted Master Jinn out to have some words several minutes ago. The Knight probably had a commlink, though I doubted he was supposed to let me use it.

Only one way to find out.

"Jedi Knight," I said.

The Knight glanced up at me. He was frowning, his brows drawn together. He didn't seem to like me very much. "Yes?"

"Would it be possible for me to make a comm?"

The Knight's frown deepened even further. I got the sense he spent a lot of time frowning. "Why?"

"Because I would like to contact someone who is not physically in the room with me, as is the general usage of wireless communications."

For some reason, the Knight didn't like this answer. He crossed his arms and made a face like he'd smelled something fetid. "Who are you trying to contact?" he asked. I suspected he had wanted to say something a bit different.

"A friend who can help find Skywalker."

The Knight waved his hand dismissively. "Master Koon already has everyone searching for him that we can spare. Why do you think one comm will make any difference?"

"I don't know if it will, but I have to try, and the more time they have to search, the more likely they are to find your wayward Knight," I said. "I believe under standard restrictions of detention, I have the right to comm people with supervision. Is this not the case in the Jedi Temple?"

"Your right to comm people is up to my discretion," the Knight said, sweeping wayward white bangs out of his face. "If you really want to comm someone, you'll have to convince me."

"Convince you of what? That I'm trying to help Skywalker?"

"Are you? I've heard your interviews. You think Skywalker's a terrible Jedi and basically a huge bitch. Doesn't seem like you've got a lot of reason to want to save him."

This was not technically false. I _had_ spoken rather poorly of Skywalker during my interrogations, though I would never use such crude terminology. I _didn't_ see why that meant I shouldn't search for him.

"Do you really think I'd let Skywalker get kidnapped by a Sith and tortured just because he was rude to me?" I asked. "That's awful. It's also not a very Jedi-like thing to think, dear Knight."

The Knight scowled at me. "Left the Jedi Temple and you're still lecturing people, are you?"

Of course, Master Jinn had accused me of the same not thirty minutes ago, but this Knight had spoken with such vitriol that it didn't seem borne of general offence alone.

"I wasn't aware that I was lecturing people before I left, seeing as I was only thirteen," I said. "I might have been an idiot then, but not an arrogant one."

"I suppose you got too _smart_ for the Order, then? All that time you spent saying you'd be a Jedi Knight didn't mean anything?"

That...was weirdly personal. I didn't really remember going around telling people I'd become a Jedi Knight or anything. Maybe I had--I had taken that for granted between the ages of four and thirteen and telling everyone about it sounded like something a dumb youngling me would do. Of course, I _didn't_ become a Knight, so all those old dreams were kind of sad now.

I squinted at the Knight. "Sorry, do I know you?"

The Knight's pale face went red. "Yeah," he said. "I'd think so. _Oafy-Wan._ "

Ah. _That_ old nickname. I'd hated it with a passion in my Initiate days, but now it just sounded silly. "Not very professional of you, my dear," I said.

I looked at the Knight properly, from his pale skin to his white hair. The large burn scar across one side of his face was new, but it still didn't take too long to put the face to the name.

Bruck Chun, my childhood bully. He was no longer the runty Initiate who had goaded me into fights and made fun of my friends and told me I'd never get to be a Jedi. Now he was a tall and fully-grown Knight with a delicate face any hapless gentlebeing might accidentally fall in love with, even with the scar. His presence in the Force was not as powerful or controlled as a Master's, but there was no doubt that he had become a proper Jedi. Funny how times change.

Honestly, I hadn't thought of him since I became a Padawan, much less any time in the last decade. I'd given him a broken nose before I got summarily shipped off to Bandomeer, then never heard about him again. I wondered how he'd gotten this post. Had he requested it or been assigned to it?--that seemed like something the Council might do, just to stir up drama.

From the looks of it, he remembered me a lot more than I remembered him.

"I suppose congratulations are in order, Bruck," I said. "You were correct all along--the Jedi life was not for me. You became a Knight while I did not. Was it everything you hoped for?"

Bruck's face colored even further. "I'm better off than you, _Detective._ At least I didn't have to get dragged back to the Temple in _cuffs_ like a criminal."

Implying he had to get dragged back to the Temple at some point? I could see that happening. Whoever had been Bruck's Master had my deepest sympathies.

"Not going to say anything?" Bruck asked. "Too ashamed of how low you've fallen? I heard you can't even use the Force anymore. Can't even be a Jedi if you tried."

I supposed there was some comfort in knowing some people had not changed at all in the last twenty years, even if it was Bruck being crass.

"I'm not twelve, Bruck. There's nothing you can say to bait me anymore," I said. "May I please comm my friend?"

Bruck tilted his head up so he could look down at me. "Why should I let you?"

"Because Anakin Skywalker is being tortured by a Sith and I would prefer that he wasn't. Bruck, you have made vows to be compassionate and protect people who cannot help themselves. Even if you still hate me, at least let me appeal to you as a Jedi Knight, that Skywalker's well-being is more important than this extremely old grudge of yours."

Bruck sniffed. "You think pretty highly of yourself if you think I'm holding a _grudge._ That's not the Jedi way, but I guess you wouldn't know that."

"Of course, my mistake. You're acting childish and unprofessional for perfectly impartial, Jedi-appropriate reasons," I said. "Now that we've established you are an honorable and righteous Jedi Knight, may I please make a comm?"

Bruck eyed me slowly, lingering on my mechanical hand. He didn't seem especially impressed, though I didn't see why he cared at all. "Maybe. If you tell me one thing first."

I closed my eyes and asked the Force for patience. "You're really going to extort me over this?"

"Why'd you leave the Order?" Bruck asked.

"The reason any Jedi does--because I wanted to."

" _Why,_ though?" Bruck pressed. " _Why_ did you leave? What could have possibly been out there that made you want to give up becoming a Knight?"

My mind supplied images of scorched battlefields and bombed-out buildings, of scared children trying to find something to eat, of Cerasi asking me for help because I was a Jedi and that was supposed to _mean_ something.

I had a lot of reasons, but I wasn't about to share them with _Bruck Chun._

"Why does it matter to you so much?" I asked. "I left the Order. I thought you'd be pleased."

"Because you had everything. You got shipped off to Bandomeer and came back a Padawan. You had a Master, a lightsaber, a _future._ You were going to be a Knight. You were going to fulfill all your dreams and be everything you ever wanted and you just threw it away! _Why?_ " Bruck snarled.

I took a step back from him, just so he wouldn't try to grab me. Bruck's shields were still tight, but his expression was clear enough--desperate.

This...was not about me.

"There's no dishonor in realizing the Jedi lifestyle isn't right for you," I said. "I found something I thought was more important, so I left. That's all."

"More important than me?"

That hit me like a rotten fruit.

More important than Bruck Chun. Unbelievable. It would be easier to list all the things that _weren't_ more important than Bruck Chun.

"I don't think _I'm_ the one with an inflated sense of importance," I said slowly. "You bullied me for _years._ Why in the world would I care about you?"

He glared at me. "Because I'm a Knight and you aren't. Does it make you mad? To see little Bruck Chun fulfill all the dreams you couldn't? To see your old family with lightsabers and going out there to save the galaxy while you're stuck here on Coruscant? To not have the Force anymore?"

I frowned. "Why do you want me to be angry so badly? What are you trying to prove?"

"Isn't it obvious? That I'm _finally_ better than you."

"Bruck," I said. "There has never been a competition between us."

"Yes, there is! There always has been! You were always,"--Bruck made a small choking noise--"better than me. Everyone liked you better. Your grades were better. Your saberwork was better. You were so kriffing stupid and _noble_ and whatever. You were supposed to always be there, so I could get up to you and _beat_ you, and--and then you went off and _died!_ "

Clearly, Bruck remembered my childhood very differently than I did.

"Why does everyone think I _died_?" I asked. "Nobody even knew where I got dropped off."

Bruck made a sound from the back of his throat. "Quinlan. His bond snapped or something like a year after you disappeared. He wouldn't shut up about it for weeks and they had to ground him in the Temple. He had to go to the Mind Healers and everything. I guess there were other people, too--Quinlan was just the loudest."

Quinlan Vos. I thought about him sometimes, but not often anymore--mostly just when his psychometry would save me a moon-sized headache. For the little time we'd spent together, we'd been friends, enough that we'd had a Force bond. I'd shut that down as much as I could when I left, just to stop him from having to see what I did, but never completely succeeded. Apparently, when I lost the Force, it severed all my bonds completely.

All of a sudden, everyone thinking I was dead made a lot more sense. If I ever saw Quin again, I owed him an apology.

Bruck continued, "We had a pyre for you--everyone knew about it. It was...rough as hell. Master Qui-Gon couldn't look anyone in the eyes for _months_ afterwards--though that might have been the probation. It was really close to when Xanatos got offed, you know. Just awful." He grimaced. It didn't seem like something he enjoyed thinking about.

I didn't enjoy it, either. I wasn't comfortable with people holding a funeral for me when I was still very much alive. That seemed like bad luck.

"I won't act like I had fun leaving the Order," I said. "But if I hadn't, people would have died. So yes, leaving was more important than whatever rivalry you thought was going on."

"If you hadn't given up on being a Jedi Knight, you would have saved more people than the ones you left for. Was it really worth it? Did they really need some snot-nosed kid like you?"

I remembered younglings huddling together in a makeshift medical center, and me taking on their pain because there wasn't enough medication and I still had enough of a connection to the Force to do so. I remembered holding a six-year-old's hand as she bled out from shrapnel in her stomach. She'd been crying too hard to even tell me her name. How much had my presence really mattered at Melida/Daan? How many lives did I really save, and how many did I condemn?

I didn't know. I was only one person, and not even a Jedi at that. I did what I could, and that was all I could do.

"It's not a numbers game, Bruck. If you can only save five people out of a thousand, that doesn't make those five people worthless, and it doesn't mean your efforts are in vain. Those people may not have needed me, but I was there to help and no one else was. That's all."

Bruck was silent for a long time, turning over whatever thoughts he had in his head. I could feel the Force gathering around him, like the anticipation before a heavy rainstorm--cloying. He sighed and looked away. "You really don't care about being a Knight anymore, do you?"

"No, I don't. I have different duties now."

Bruck brushed his bangs out of his face again, morose. "Do you really think your comm will help find Knight Skywalker? They've been looking for Sith for years now and haven't managed it. You think you can do it?"

"I hope I can. All I can do is my best."

Bruck looked back towards me, reaching out with the Force and brushing against me. He felt...scared. Uncertain. Maybe even ashamed, though I wouldn't tell him that to his face. After only a brief touch, he pulled away.

"You really believe that," he said quietly. "That you can just try your hardest and everything will work out."

"I didn't say that. My best is all I can give, that's it. I can't beat myself up for things I'm not capable of, or things I don't know. Maybe I will find Skywalker. Maybe I won't. But I have to try."

"Do or do not," Bruck said.

"I'm not a Jedi anymore. I can try all I like."

Bruck gave me a long look, then pulled his commlink off his belt and handed it to me. "Make your comm. I don't think it'll work, but what would I know? Until this morning, I thought you were dead."

I didn't really know how to respond to that, so I took the commlink. "Thank you."

I punched in Lissa's comm code.

* * *

It was just around 1700 when Bail finally secured my release from the Jedi Temple. He was not impressed about the situation.

"As much as I am glad to see you again so soon," Bail said as he escorted me out to the speeder bay, "please do me a favor and never get arrested by the Jedi Temple again."

"My dear, you know I don't do these things on purpose. It's hardly my fault people keep accusing me of crimes I haven't committed."

"It _is_ your fault that you keep sneaking into crime scenes, concealing evidence, and antagonizing law enforcement, Obi-Wan."

I put my hands over my heart in offense. "Bail, my dear, please! You're making me out to be some kind of villain!"

"I'll do worse than that if you make this Jedi detainment a recurring thing. You would not believe how difficult it was to track down all the paperwork I needed to get them to release you. The Senate may be bureaucratic nonsense, but at least it's _well-organized_ and _properly filed_ bureaucratic nonsense. The Jedi protocols and judiciary rights documentation are a fractal nightmare in comparison. At this rate, I'll go completely gray before I'm fifty."

"If it's any comfort, you will be positively magnificent in silver." I squeezed his hand gently. "For what it's worth, thank you, Bail, for braving the Jedi paperwork and getting me out in such a timely fashion. I know you're very busy and my troubles are not easy to deal with."

Bail side-eyed me. "Are you trying to butter me up for something?"

"No, of course not. I _am_ appreciative. You're a good friend and I'm blessed to know you, even before you saved my life. I don't think I ever say it enough." I smiled. "But since you ask, I did want advice on a sensitive subject."

The two of us exited into the speeder bay.

"A 'sensitive subject'? Are you trying to make me go gray even faster than I already am?" Bail asked.

"You're the one trying to keep the Republic from collapsing in on itself--I think you manage your own gray hairs quite well enough. My sensitive subject is relevant to your aims, actually. I wanted to know how we would hypothetically go about prosecuting the Supreme Chancellor."

Bail stopped dead. He took a deep breath and put his hands on my shoulders and looked me directly in the eyes. He had such dark eyes, sharp and hard, but not cruel. They were the eyes of a man who loved and respected life so much that he hated to ever sacrifice it, but would pull the trigger himself if it became necessary. In them, I saw a flame of justice and fairness so intense and pure that he would inevitably one day burn from it.

I loved those eyes.

"Obi-Wan," he said.

"Bail."

"Obi-Wan. Why do you want to prosecute the Supreme Chancellor?"

"Why do I want to prosecute anyone? Because they've committed crimes, of course. I've found evidence of Chancellor Palpatine misusing government funds and resources--multiple incidences of it, spread across over thirty years since the beginning of his term in Naboo's administration. Given more time, I'm sure I'll find much more, too. It seems like nobody's run a proper audit on him since he became Supreme Chancellor, or if they have, it hasn't been very good. There's probably a reason for that."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. Why are you bringing the Supreme Chancellor into this, now? What did you find? You don't think he kidnapped Knight Skywalker, do you?"

"Oh, I know he didn't," I said. "But I also know he's involved somewhere. I intend to find out exactly _how_ quite soon."

"I thought you said you weren't getting paid enough to deal with the Supreme Chancellor."

"So I did. Maybe I'll send the Jedi Temple an invoice."

Bail sighed and continued walking. "If you can even find the forms for it--you're on your own for that one. Do you really think we have to prosecute the Supreme Chancellor?"

"I don't think we _have_ to, but I think if you were to hypothetically find he doesn't have the Republic's best interests at heart, it would be terribly helpful to have a stack of hard evidence compiled by an independent investigator you trust, tabulating his many crimes."

"Hypothetically."

"Yes, dear. Hypothetically, I just thought I'd give you a heads-up before I sent you an itemized list of incriminating documents. I don't think it would be enough to hypothetically depose him--probably nothing short of outright treason would do that--but if you talk to the right people you might be able to push for a vote of no-confidence."

Bail took a deep breath and visibly counted to ten before letting it out. "Keep talking like this and you really will get me in trouble one day, Obi-Wan."

I slung my arm around his waist and pulled him closer to my side. "You know you love it, dear. What's working in the best interests of the citizens if not for a little revolution? Think about it: if it goes well, you can end the war and everyone's happy, and if it goes badly, we can take your ship and fly us all the way out to Wild Space. Carve out a new life as two very beautiful outlaws. Just think of the pair we would make. They would talk about us in history books."

"More like trashy holodramas. The kind that only play at 0300. We'd become notorious pirates before the third episode," Bail said, gently shoving me away. "Very well. If you hypothetically send me some documents, I'll do some hypothetical searching of my own."

"My dear, I knew you were my favorite for a reason."

"And you, Obi-Wan, are an utter handful." He spotted something towards our left and stopped. "I believe that is your friend to retrieve you."

I looked up.

Coming down the lanes of parked speeders, Rex spotted us and waved. He was wearing all his armor again, unsurprisingly, sans the helmet which was tucked under his arm. When he reached us, he snapped off a sharp salute. "Detective! I've got your things. Are you all right?"

I accepted my baton and commlink, but refused to take back my apartment passkey. Chances were, I would not be capable of using that when we got back to my apartment. "I'm unharmed, thank you." 

"I had to retrieve you from the Halls of Healing," Bail said dryly.

"Yes, I had a minor medical incident, and now I'm fine. How are you, Soldier?"

"I'm good. You had a medical incident? They didn't hurt you, did they?"

I waved him off. "No, nothing of that sort. Just an exacerbation of a pre-existing condition, technically speaking."

Rex made a face. "Technically."

"That's all you'll be able to get out of him, Captain, so perhaps it would be best to let it lie," Bail said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "As for you, my friend, this is where we part ways. I hope the next time I see you is for dinner, and not anything related to all of this."

I brushed my thumb across the line of his jaw. "I don't make promises I can't keep, dear."

Bail closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "So you don't. Then promise me you'll do your best to stay safe?"

"Of course, Bail. I always do."

Bail gently tugged my hand from his face and clasped it between his. "Then I'll see you next time. Perhaps _I_ can braid your hair--they always look so charming on you."

"I'll pass the compliment on to Ahsoka. She put a lot of work into it." I smiled. "I'll see you soon, dear."

With a soft smile of his own, Bail went to his own speeder and departed. I watched him go until he passed out of sight.

I sighed. What a good man. Every time I saw him, it reminded me of how much I loved him. I knew anything _more_ between us was impossible because of his work, but he was only the man I loved because of it--a sticky conundrum, but a comfortable one for now. Probably, he felt the same way about me. 

Maybe one day, if he ever stepped down, we could be something beautiful. I would like that.

Rex coughed behind me. "Um, Detective?"

I turned back towards Rex. "Soldier. I believe we have a search of our own to conduct."

Rex straightened with a sharp nod. "Yes, sir. The speeder's just this way. The Commander should already be there."

Without prompting, he briefed me on the way to the speeder. After my arrest, the Jedi brought him and Ahsoka to the Temple and subjected them to a lengthy mental examination by the Mind Healers to spot any Dark Side influence. Apparently, Master Koon had _not_ been entirely honest: while the Healers gave Ahsoka a completely clean bill of health, they had kept Rex for a series of additional scans.

"They let me go after a while, but they want me to follow-up when there's more time," Rex said. "Whatever it is, it's pretty old, maybe a remnant from Ventress or some other Darksider we ran into on the field. The Healers didn't think it was actively dangerous, or they probably wouldn't have let me leave, much less stay alone with the Commander, but they definitely want to figure out exactly what it is." He grimaced. "I do, too. I don't like the idea of having something in my head that shouldn't be there."

"I wouldn't either. What happened next?"

Rex continued. After the examinations, he contacted Bail while Ahsoka ran interference on the Council by being a massive pain in the ass and did additional research on the side. Ahsoka got an update on the search from Master Koon, whose team definitively determined Skywalker was still planetside and somewhere within an approximately twenty kilometer radius from the original kidnapping incident. With that information in hand, Rex and Ahsoka took another trip down to the Hall of Records to comb through the databases again until Bail got me out.

"We looked into the Chancellor's finances and history like you asked us to," Rex said. "But it was a pain in the _shebs_. There are discrepancies everywhere, which makes it hard to track down what's real and what isn't. To the best of our abilities, we've compiled a list of Coruscant properties he is or was responsible for since he joined the Senate. The list is...extensive."

"Good. This is good," I said, rubbing my chin in thought. "I'll want to take a closer look at those discrepancies later, but for now, I think we have a fighting chance of finding Skywalker."

"Do we?" Rex asked, stopping by a Temple-issue speeder with Ahsoka sitting in the front seat. "I don't feel we're very close at all."

I waved hello to Ahsoka and said, "Have some hope, Soldier. While you were searching for the kidnapper's location, I found out who the kidnapper is."

"You what?" Ahsoka said, half hanging out the speeder. "You know who kidnapped Skyguy? How'd you figure that one out?"

"Luck, mostly," I said. I hopped into the back seat of the speeder. "We need to go back to my apartment to pick up a few things, and then I'll look through these lists of yours."

"We're going to find Skyguy?" Ahsoka asked.

"That's the hope." I closed my eyes as Rex pulled the speeder out and I started to feel the noise of Coruscant rushing in through the Force. After spending half a day in restraining cuffs and in the quiet Jedi Temple, Coruscant's Force had become an ion cannon against my senses. "Now please don't say anything to me until we get to my apartment. I need to focus so I don't have another medical incident. Chances are, I won't be lucid by the time we arrive. There's a mild Force-suppressing cuff in my kitchen drawer. You'll have to put it on me. Okay?"

"What do you--"

That's when we hit the city line and psychic static completely blanked me out.

* * *

I didn't fall unconscious, so to speak. I lost all awareness of my physical self, for all that I was still inhabiting my body, but I was mentally lucid as Coruscant's Force dragged me down into its ever-turbulent noise the moment the Jedi Temple's light let me go.

I fell into a state I hesitate to call meditation so much as a forcibly-induced and extremely deep trance. The Force filled me so quickly that I could hardly redirect it away, until it filled my entire existence with white static.

This was not the psychic static of the city I had grown so used to, but a planet-rending storm that ripped through me much like a waterfall might rip through a flimsiplast bag. It was a force of nature and violence, pressing against my flesh from the inside with the full weight of the entire galaxy, or perhaps it just felt that way. All I could do was anchor myself and wait for it to subside, or for myself to acclimatize.

Then, with a _snap,_ the noise dropped to a dull roar, hurling me back against my physical senses. I blinked, only to find my eyes unpleasantly dry. In the Force, I couldn't sense anything except a vague blob of concern and white noise. There were hands against my arms, pressure under my back and legs.

"--okay? Hello?"

I shook my head to clear out the rest of the static. Slowly, my vision cleared to reveal a very blurry apartment. On closer inspection, I found it was my apartment. Right. I remembered now--I was with Rex and Ahsoka, trying to find Skywalker, feeling unusually coherent for coming off Force suppression.

"Detective? Can you say something?" Rex asked.

I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my flesh hand and felt the thin cuff around my wrist. That would explain my coherence and the muddiness of the Force. "Yes, I'm back. I see you found my cuff."

Rex stepped back with what I might cautiously call relief. "You could have given us a little more warning, Detective."

"My apologies, Soldier. I usually don't have someone help manage my condition." I pushed my way off of the--couch. I was on the couch, apparently.

"Are you, uh, okay?" Ahsoka said, coming around to my side as I went to grab my datapad. "That was freaky. We got you to walk in here and everything, but you were all spaced-out and you wouldn't say anything. What was that all about?"

"Have you ever heard of battle meditation?" I asked, typing in my passcode.

"Yeah? Sort of? It's when you meditate while battling, I guess. Are you trying to change the subject?"

"No, I'm not, and yes, I suppose the term is fairly self-explanatory. Battle meditation is a technique where you, a Jedi, trance yourself for battle and give yourself over completely to the Force to let it guide your movements." I sat back down on the couch and checked my messages--my colleague from Naboo had gotten back to me with a modestly sized attachment. It was evident from the file size that they had, in fact, found evidence of Skywalker and Amidala's marriage. I was, once again, disappointed but not surprised at Skywalker's poor choices. I started running my decryption algorithm on it, then glanced over to Rex. "Soldier, you said you had some lists. Transfer them to me, please?"

"Sure thing, Detective," Rex said. He went to get Ahsoka's datapad.

Ahsoka hopped onto the couch beside me. "Okay, that's cool, I guess, but how does that have anything to do with you? You, what, went into a battle trance? Not much of a battle to get up here, I gotta say."

"I don't know if what happens to me is really comparable to a battle trance--that's a Master's technique, so obviously I never learned it. The general principle is similar, though. If you open yourself to the Force, it can commandeer your body through its will and your instinct without conscious thought," I said. "All Force-sensitives are generally open to the Force, but my...condition means I'm especially vulnerable, since I can't safely shield. If I've been on Force suppression, stepping into the city is like placing an empty cup in a pool of water."

"It rushes in?"

"Exactly. The Force rushes in, all at once. Too much for me to manage, and I--for lack of a better term--black out. Once the Force evens out, I can regulate its flow properly, which is how I manage day-to-day, but it only works that way if I stay in Coruscant. It's why I rarely go off-planet. Or to the Jedi Temple, though there are other reasons I don't go there."

"Huh," Ahsoka said. "That's kind of creepy. What if the Force makes you do something weird?"

"Well, you have to trust it won't. You wouldn't be much of a Jedi if you couldn't trust the Force." I checked my messages. There were a few non-urgent information requests and general complaints from my network. My message to Jedha had a reply, which consisted of only a smiley face with no eyes. Chirrut, most likely.

"I mean, yeah, I trust the Force, but I don't want it to, like, _possess_ me. You're _okay_ with that?" Ahsoka asked.

I shrugged. Strictly speaking, it wasn't about being _okay_ with anything so much as it was a stipulation of staying on Coruscant. If living so close to the Force that I could feel its pulse in my veins meant sometimes it would drag me under and overtake my spirit for a few days at a time, I could afford that. If I wasn't okay with it, I'd just move elsewhere, but it was only Coruscant where the population was so dense that I could feel the Force vibrating under my skin and sense its currents so strongly--the only other thing that compared was descending into the Whills at the Temple of Kyber, and _that_ was an experience best not repeated.

Coruscant was not a friend that could truly fill the hollowness in my spirit or bridge the impassable transparisteel wall separating me from everyone else, but its noise had a closeness that made me feel nearly whole. Nowhere else could do that. Ahsoka, with her intact connection to the Force and through it, the entire galaxy, didn't really have a way to understand that. I hoped she never did.

"It's not that bad," I said. "It's not _actually_ possession. It's still me. I'm still functional, just not aware. Usually if I have to Force suppress, I lock myself in for a couple of days to ride it out afterwards and it's fine."

Ahsoka grimaced. "Wow, uh. No offense or anything, but your life is kind of a hot mess."

That was a fair if crude assessment. "Life is what you make of it."

Rex passed me a datachip. I thanked him and slotted it into my datapad.

"Let's see if we can't find Skywalker," I said, pulling up the files. They were fairly extensive lists of Coruscant-based Senate-reclaimed buildings and locations with commissioned construction work to install what _could_ be Force-suppressing or -interfering materials. About ten thousand results, pulled from over a hundred sources--Ahsoka and Rex had been extremely productive during my detainment. All I had to do now was process the data.

Running an algorithm to filter out anything outside a twenty-kilometer range brought results down to about a thousand, then cross-referencing the Chancellor's holdings brought the hits down to just over a hundred. A major improvement, but still a bit much to handle, even for the Jedi search teams.

I deliberated for a few moments, then filtered out anything acquired more recently than the Naboo mission. Twenty-two hits total. Much better.

"All right," I said. "Let's see what how the data lines up." I transmitted the list to my holomap of Coruscant, then set the projector in the middle of the room. I booted it up, and a large blue holographic map sparked to life, taking up about half of my apartment. Twenty-two points were lit up across the undercity, most of them districts I'd never even gone to.

"Woah, how'd you do that?" Ahsoka asked, leaning in to look closer. "So Skyguy's somewhere in one of these places?"

"That's my best guess," I said, searching through the details of each address. In total, it was twelve apartment complexes, two administrative buildings, eight factories or industrial warehouses across six different levels of the undercity. Why in the world did Chancellor Palpatine have these places to begin with? Some of it was reclaimed through Senate building code laws, others through more private means via the Banking Clan, but none of it seemed to have any good reason to exist. Except for embezzlement, I supposed, and money was as good a reason as any.

"We can't narrow this down any further?" Rex asked. "Not that this isn't helpful, but we can't search all these locations. It would take too long."

"Have some faith," I said, pulling out my commlink and punching in a code. "The Jedi aren't the only people looking for Skywalker."

Rex stared at me. "You...you did something. But you were _arrested._ "

"I told you, I know who the kidnapper is. I know what he looks like, and fortunately for us, he's _very_ recognizable. I asked a friend to look out for him," I said. My commlink flashed, then the transmission opened. 

_"Hey, Mister Private Investigator!"_ Lissa shouted. _"I was wondering when I'd hear back from you! Give me a second to get off the road, I've got news for you."_

"Who's that?" Ahsoka asked. Rex looked just as curious.

"Like I said, a friend. She's a courier I met the other day," I said. "And quite a gossip. You never know when it'll be good to know one of those."

Rex looked horrified. "You sent _couriers_ to search for a _Sith?_ "

"I didn't _send_ anyone to do anything. I asked if any of them had _seen_ him, and if they could keep an eye out or possibly ask around. Couriers cross more parts of the city in one day than just about anyone, and there's a lot of them. Even a Sith has to run errands, and it's not like he's wearing a mask everywhere."

"You know what the Sith _looks_ like?" Rex asked.

"It wouldn't be a very good search if I didn't."

Rex started to respond when my commlink crackled.

 _"All right, PI Blasterbolts. Bike's stopped. You want to hear the news?"_ Lissa asked.

"Of course."

_"Right, okay. I sent your message out to the other courier boards. Got a couple messages back, seems like he's been spotted around the manufactory levels. I can send you the rough addresses, give me a sec."_

"Lovely. Thank you, Lissa," I said. "Do you have any recent sightings?"

_"Yeah, actually! Forty minutes ago, I got a message back from Che'ka, great girl by the way, she can bench press you, she said she saw him about four blocks out from the really big chemical plant on the south end of Shank Alley. You know what I'm talking about?"_

Shank Alley, of course, was not the actual name of that particular row of buildings in the undercity, though after the twenty-some knife-related incidents there, it may as well be. The knives weren't the only thing that area was known for. "That would be the plant with the corpse disposal scandal about six years ago?"

_"Yeah, yeah, that one! Che'ka was just around there. You think that'll help find lover-boy?"_

"'Lover-boy'?" Ahsoka stage-whispered to Rex.

"I quite think so, Lissa. I'm indebted to you and your colleagues," I told her.

 _"Sick! Let me know how it turns out. Catch you later!"_ Without waiting for a response, she cut the transmission.

How impatient. Perhaps that was just how couriers were.

My datapad pinged with the locations Lissa had retrieved, and I plugged them into the holomap. Just as I suspected, the sightings were mostly clustered around one of the potential kidnap sites--a decommissioned droid foundry several levels down.

I reached the holomap off the floor and shut it down. 

"Let's go. We've a Knight to retrieve."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan finds Skywalker.

We headed down, deep into the undercity. Rex drove in grim silence down artificially lit tunnels with the single-minded determination of a man who had exactly one goal and knew what he had to do to achieve it. We weren't alone even in those deeper passageways--few parts of Coruscant were ever truly empty--but it felt that way as we sped past blinking street lights and towering industry.

Beside me, Ahsoka stared out over the factories and buildings flying past, her lightsaber settled in her lap and curled tight in her fingers. Like any lightsaber, Ahsoka's was unique and handmade with the Force. Hers was a deceptively simple straight cylinder, pale silver casing split lengthwise down the center over a black belly. Despite Ahsoka's deployment on the front lines in an active war zone, her lightsaber still looked brand new--no scratches or scuffs on the casing or stains from soot or dirt or anything else a Padawan might encounter out there. That didn't have to mean anything. Maybe Ahsoka took good care of her lightsaber, like any Padawan should. But maybe she didn't have a whole lot of experience with it. Definitely not enough to take on a Sith.

It was a bad idea, going after Skywalker alone--a soldier, a wet-behind-the-ears Padawan, and a Temple reject was not the rescue team _I_ would have chosen. Technically, we _weren't_ alone, since Ahsoka had informed Master Koon of where Skywalker was and reinforcements were on the way, but it would take the fastest of them at least an hour to arrive. I didn't know if an hour would make the difference between Skywalker Falling versus not, but it probably wasn't a big enough difference to risk Ahsoka and Rex.

I wasn't thinking about that. I just wanted to get there before the Jedi did. I wanted to talk.

It was a funny idea, to talk to a Sith. I didn't even really know what a Sith _was,_ outside of ancient history and scary stories. They were supposed to be some unspeakable evil, all terror and violence and cruelty. Unfathomable monsters. War machines. World destroyers. It didn't seem right that a Sith would be a person, just like anyone else.

I wasn't a Jedi by any metric that mattered--I had no Master, no lightsaber, no Force. It wasn't my job to fight monsters. But a _person--_

I could handle a person. I was probably the only one here who saw him that way. Maybe the only one anywhere.

In the larger scheme of things, in the wake of Skywalker and Master Jinn and the Jedi and the Sith, that didn't mean much. Did a Sith deserve kindness or forgiveness or even the barest dignity that any person should be afforded? It wasn't my place to say. But I had promised him in a sincere and quiet pre-dawn that I would see him through, and I meant it. For him, I had to try.

I pressed my hand against my coat, feeling the cold hard weight in my underarm holster.

I owed him that much.

* * *

There were lights in the windows.

The world was black dark around us, so deep we were into the undercity and so far from a fully functioning power grid. But in the factory, there were lights in the windows.

It seemed like our Sith wanted to be found.

Our walk to the factory was not a pleasant one. I'd heard stories about the corpse disposal scandal, but that hadn't remotely prepared me for the reality of its consequences in the area. The air smelled so strongly of some pungent chemical that I had to tie a bandanna around my mouth and nose to keep from gagging. It helped, but not as much as I would have liked. I didn't know what had happened in the past, but the streets were completely abandoned now, with nothing left but the hollowed-out corpses of buildings and debris and dirty streets. A ghost town. Even Coruscant had those.

"What happened here?" Ahsoka asked, muffled by the hand she'd clapped over the lower half of her face.

Rex shrugged. He was doing better than the two of us, but he also had a hermetically sealed helmet with an air filter. Lucky guy. "Toxic chemical spill, I'm guessing. We shouldn't stay around here long."

"I wasn't planning on it," I told him.

We proceeded at a brisk pace, tense and ready for an ambush, but there was no one in the darkened streets, sentient or otherwise. Whatever chemical accident had occurred was aggressive enough to render this part of the city completely uninhabitable--an alarming thought, considering what places in Coruscant _were_ considered habitable. Even the Force, what little I could sense with the cuff around my wrist, felt eerily still and silent.

The factory itself was enormous. Rex's flashlight revealed it to be a very solid duracrete building with faded red paint, adorned only with a large and tarnished chromium insignia in the shape of a stylized droid. Stretching out in both directions, there was the line of identical rectangular lit windows, at least three stories' height up--the manufacturing floor, if I had to guess. With the darkness, it was impossible to make out the entire building's silhouette, but it was large enough that the flashlight's high beam couldn't reach any of the edges.

There was a deactivated electric fence around the factory, which we vaulted easily enough. From there, we went to the nearest entrance we could find, a loading dock. It was a large roughly square metal door, nearly thrice my height. Apparently, this factory built _large_ droids. To my surprise, the keypad access was functional--not that it mattered. We used the tried-and-true Jedi method of breaking and entering and cut a door-shaped hole with Ahsoka's lightsaber.

We went in.

The lights which had seemed so bright in the black abyss outside were a lot dimmer inside. On the manufacturing floor, the pale yellow glow barely touched the dusty duracrete floor or the towering rows of assembly line machines that stood on it. None of them were running--some of them were still frozen mid-process. Die presses suspended over dusty sheets of durasteel. Power cells lay open in unfinished casings. Rows of droids stood silent, waiting for a final quality control check that would never happen.

Except for the sound of our footsteps, it was silent.

"The Sith is in here?" Rex asked.

"Not here," Ahsoka said. "Skyguy's...further down somewhere."

I glanced at her as I pulled my bandanna down. The air in the factory was a lot better than outside. Not _good_ , but bearable. "You can sense him now?"

Ahsoka nodded. "Ever since we got into the building."

A mixed blessing. If Ahsoka could sense Skywalker through their training bond, then at the very least, we had found the right place. That was good. It also meant this building was probably more Force-shielding than Force-suppressed--no flow into or out of, but still able to flow within. Like an electromagnetic interference blocking cage. I didn't know how that translated to one's ability to _use_ the Force. Ahsoka seemed okay, so I had to assume the Force was still somewhat accessible, both for her and the Sith. That meant there was a very real chance we would get Force-choked the moment we found Skywalker. That was bad.

"Ahsoka, can you sense Skywalker's status?"

Ahsoka closed her eyes and screwed up her face in concentration for a few moments. "He's hurt. I think he might be sleeping right now."

"Does he feel Dark?" I asked.

"Um," she said. "I...I don't know."

That was fair. Ahsoka probably didn't have a lot of experience with the Dark Side, and it felt different to everyone, if ubiquitously horrible. The fact that she couldn't enthusiastically deny Skywalker having gone Dark was telling on its own.

"...Obi-Wan? Do you really think Skyguy's going to Fall?"

Ahsoka looked genuinely terrified of the possibility, and I couldn't blame her. Skywalker going Dark was a nightmare scenario. Even if he had less common sense than a malfunctioning mouse droid, he was still one of the strongest Force users in history and knew how to use a lightsaber. If he fully and truly embraced the Dark Side and all the volatile power that entailed, it would quickly stop being a matter of _would_ we kill him so much as _could_ we kill him.

I adjusted the grip on my baton. We hadn't reached the worst-case scenario yet--we'd moved fast enough to prevent that. I was no expert in the Dark Side, but there was no way Skywalker had Fallen yet. If the Force or Ahsoka didn't tell us, the Sith himself would have. My opinion of Skywalker was subterranean, but the fact remained that he'd passed his Trials and earned Knighthood, somehow. He didn't get there by caving to every Darksider that got their hands on him. He couldn't have Fallen yet, even if purely out of spite.

That didn't comfort me much. There was a wide gulf between good and Fallen. It didn't take using the Dark Side to be dangerous or to hurt someone. Skywalker, whatever his current status, whatever had been done to him, could still very well be an active threat.

"I don't know," I said. "When I met him, he was angry and ready to do something stupid, and he's already got someone he's willing to betray his vows to the Order for, so it's very possible that he'll Fall. But he hasn't yet. We'd know if he had. Skywalker's only been captured for thirty-some hours. That might be enough time to make him use the Dark Side, but that's not enough time for him to go off the deep end."

Ahsoka did not look very reassured by this. She stayed quiet for a few moments, considering it with a grimace. "What are we going to do if Skyguy goes to the Dark Side? We won't... _kill_ him, will we?"

"Ahsoka, frankly, if Skywalker Falls, whether _we_ kill _him_ will become the least of our problems. I'm hoping we don't reach that point." I had a general policy of planning for the worst, but that kind of went out the window when 'the worst' was a completely insoluble situation. Not much to plan for if I died. "For now, we have to find him before the situation devolves, and get him out of here. By force, if necessary."

Ahsoka squeezed her lightsaber nervously and nodded with grim determination. "Okay," she said. "We'll find him--I can sense him pretty well now. We're close."

"Lead the way," I said. "And stay sharp."

* * *

Ahsoka took us deep into the factory, down through the levels. It was a big factory, with plenty of administrative offices and quality control labs and manufacturing floors. A lot of places to hold a Jedi Knight. We went straight past all of them.

"Something happened here," Ahsoka said as we searched the building. "I don't know what, but the Force here feels...bad."

"Bad in what way?" I asked.

Ahsoka shook her head. "I don't know. It's something really old, and it's everywhere. It feels...cold."

It was pretty much always a bad sign when the Force felt cold. "Psychic impressions?" I asked.

"Maybe. I think someone got hurt here, a long time ago. Really badly."

"Considering the current context, you're probably right."

Ahsoka shivered and started walking faster.

She finally stopped us in a control room at the lowest level. All the monitors were broken, though the systems still seemed to be online. Beside the main console was a heavy durasteel door, reinforced with energy dispersant alloy, though I couldn't tell what kind. It had at least three locks on it that I could see at first glance. Charming.

"He's in here. I can feel it." Ahsoka pressed her hand against the door. "He's hurt."

"Is anyone with him?" I asked.

Ahsoka shook her head. "I don't sense anyone."

I had to take her word for it--with my cuff on, I couldn't make anything out in the Force except low white noise.

"That's good, right?" Rex asked. "We can go in, extract the General, and get out."

It looked that way on the surface. It looked that way below the surface, too, and that worried me. It couldn't be this easy to retrieve Skywalker--if it was, he could have rescued himself by now.

"This has to be a trap," I said, more to myself than anyone else.

"Skyguy's got a thing he says about traps," Ahsoka said. "The best way to deal with them is to spring them."

That was one of the stupidest things I'd ever heard.

"That's one of the stupidest things I've ever heard," I said. "Who the hell taught him that? Was it Master Jinn? That sounds like something he'd say."

Rex shrugged. "It's worked for the General so far. The Seppies haven't come up with a trap that can hold him yet, and it's not for lack of trying."

Forget Rex going gray prematurely--I could feel _myself_ going gray from this conversation alone. Apparently, being the Chosen One meant making phenomenally reckless choices and everyone was _okay_ with that. The Force must be with Skywalker, because common sense clearly wasn't.

"Yes, because springing _this_ trap worked so well for him," I said. "After we rescue Skywalker, I look forward to hearing about the brilliant plan he had to extricate himself from this mess."

Unfortunately, one thing about all that _was_ true. Trap or not, we had to get Skywalker out. We had to stay vigilant and hope nobody was waiting to Force choke all three of us.

I knelt to better see the door locks--all heavy duty deadbolts, made of energy resistant materials. A lightsaber wouldn't work very well against them--best-case scenario, it would take an excruciatingly long time, worst-case scenario, there was cortosis somewhere in there and it'd short out the lightsaber completely. "Ahsoka, you'll need to use the Force to spring these deadbolts." I glanced at Rex. "It's that or explosives."

"I didn't bring any," Rex said. "This one's up to you, Commander."

Ahsoka nodded solemnly and went up to the door. She placed her hands over the first lock, eyes closed. Her concentration sharpened, and I felt the Force swell around her, then flow through her body and out towards the locking mechanism. The flow wasn't steady--Ahsoka's inexperience or the shielding around the factory had it stopping and stuttering, but it was enough to slowly get the locks open, one by one.

With a final click, the last locking mechanism opened and the heavy door swung open.

There, lying unconscious in the middle of an enormous chamber, was Skywalker.

* * *

We went in slowly. Carefully.

It was a reactor chamber, which explained the heavily shielded door. It was large, though not especially so for a reactor chamber--the ceiling was about three stories high and there was enough floor space to fit another small manufacturing line all on its own. Glowing electron ray conduits wider than I was tall ran horizontally across the length of the walls to converge on the enormous reactor core pulsing slowly in the back. The floor lights were dim, waxing and waning in time with the flickering reactor all around us.

Above us was a web of maintenance catwalks that didn't look very safe, with white emergency strip lights around the edges. Easy for someone--especially someone Force-sensitive--to jump down on us, though I didn't see anyone. With the ceiling lights down, that didn't count for anything. My eyes weren't _that_ good.

Maybe I should have expected this. The power grid outside was cut, but the lights were on in the factory--of course there had to be a reactor chamber somewhere in it. If the Sith were to keep Skywalker somewhere, it may as well be in the most secured room of the entire building.

Skywalker was sprawled on the durasteel-plated floor. Even from ten paces back I could tell he wasn't in good shape. His skin was pale and the Force was sluggish and viscous around him--not healthy, but not dead. Not suppressed, either. It was a far cry from the storm cloud he'd been back in my office, two days back. His Jedi robes and tabards had been stripped off, only leaving the final layer of undershirt and trousers. There were some bruises on his arms, but no other visible damage. Maybe that was a good sign, but maybe not--with the Force, there were a lot of ways to hurt someone without leaving marks. A Sith probably knew most of them.

Ahsoka rushed past me to drop down beside him. "Skyguy?" she said, shaking his shoulder. "Skyguy, wake up!"

"Let me see him," I said, kneeling down beside him.

He didn't look good. The first thing I noticed was the thick collar around his neck. It was a broad black collar, nearly snug to his throat with a metal clasp at the front that had been fused shut. Not strangling, but not a lot of give, either. It looked like synthleather, not metal, with no electronics or explosives in it I could see--not a slave collar, or at least not literally, though I still didn't feel safe trying to take it off. There was bruising around it, showing someone had pulled on it, and not gently.

His face wasn't much better. There was a bloodless pallor in his cheeks, stark against the black circles under his eyes and the patchy stubble along his jaw. Even in unconsciousness, he looked like he was in pain.

I pulled my glove off to check his pulse around the collar--steady but not strong, though not _worryingly_ so. He had a low-grade fever, which wasn't great, but he was breathing fine, with no signs of injured ribs or damaged airway. No acute distress that I could discern.

"Well, he's alive and it looks like he'll stay that way," I said, rolling him on his side to pull up the back of his shirt. There were bruises, but they were broad and spread across the fleshy parts of his back, like he'd fallen on it, and not like he'd been beaten with a blunt object or otherwise. No blood or open wounds. I pulled up his shirt a bit further and hissed. Between his shoulder blades was a flat black metal disk, about the length of my thumb, pressed into the skin above his spine. The skin was inflamed around it. I didn't have to touch it to know it was embedded there.

Ahsoka inhaled sharply. "What _is_ that?"

"An implant," I said. "Judging by the current context, I'm guessing it's a slave implant."

" _What?_ What's it doing to him?"

I took a holopic of the wretched thing--one of my colleagues could identify the model and how to safely deactivate it. "It's connected directly to his nervous system," I said. "So it's there to control him."

"Like mind control?" Rex asked tightly.

I shook my head. "Brain chemistry is too complicated for that--you'd need a full neural map and an implant directly in the brain for _that_ level of control, and slave implants aren't nearly that advanced, thank the Force." I tugged Skywalker's shirt back down. "A slave implant works in broad strokes--it can cause pain and fear, put him to sleep, generate hallucinations, enhance or dampen aggression. Basically, anything you can manage with systemic drugs, but faster. It's very effective, if you're completely morally bankrupt. The way my Outer Rim colleagues tell it, only the most valuable and difficult slaves get them. Even the Chosen One would be hard-pressed to fight his own neurochemistry."

Ahsoka looked like she might be sick. I knew the feeling--slave implants were the things of nightmares, and ones that directly infiltrated the nervous system were an abomination against all sentient rights. "We have to get it off of him," she said.

" _Out_ of him," I corrected. "And there's nothing we can do about it--these implants are designed to not be safely removed. If we mess with it, we'd only end up paralyzing or killing him. He needs surgery. You should alert Master Koon that we'll need a Healer, if he hasn't already brought one."

Ahsoka nodded, already typing out a message. "Let's get him out before the Sith shows up. Do you see his lightsaber anywhere?"

I felt a prickling at the back of my neck. "His lightsaber?"

"It's over here," Rex said, reaching down by one of the maintenance consoles not twenty paces away.

He brought it back over--it was silver and solidly built, a straight hilt long enough to easily support two-handed use with a knurled collar about halfway down and black fins for the lower handgrip. An aggressive design.

"You found that on the floor?" I asked. "It was just _there?_ "

"Yeah," Rex said. "It was next to the consoles."

A crawling feeling made its way up my throat. It made no sense, to leave Skywalker unattended with his weapon in easy reach--even with the slave implant, a Jedi with access to the Force and a lightsaber could cause a whole lot of damage. Doubly so inside a reactor chamber with the electron conduits so easily within reach. Only a fool would overlook something that obvious.

I didn't think the Sith was a fool.

Rex, still holding the lightsaber, knelt down to check on Skywalker. He exchanged words with Ahsoka, but I didn't hear any of it. I didn't hear anything at all over the blood rushing in my ears.

This was a trap. We _knew_ it was. I could practically feel the snare on my throat, but I couldn't tell if we'd been caught yet or were just waiting to take a wrong step. That killed me, not knowing.

The Force shifted, snapping me back to the present. Skywalker groaned and curled up tighter on the floor, and the Force moved with him like a trail of smoke, radiating pain.

Ahsoka grabbed him by the upper arm. "Skyguy?"

Skywalker's eyes opened slowly. It took him a few moments to realize he wasn't alone--he recoiled from Ahsoka, as much as he could manage in his state.

"Skyguy!" Ahsoka said. "Master Skywalker, it's me!"

Skywalker squinted at her, still dazed. "Snips? What are you--" He broke off into a violent coughing fit. It sounded like hell--being stuck near the incident of a chemical accident bad enough to clear out a town hadn't treated him well. 

"Snips. Why are you here?" Skywalker eventually managed to say. His voice could have been more hoarse if he'd gargled a mouthful of gravel, but not by much. "What's going on?"

"We're here to rescue you, obviously. That's what a Padawan does when her Master gets kidnapped," Ahsoka said. "Are you okay?"

"I've--" Skywalker coughed again and pushed himself up to a sitting position. "I'll be honest, I've been better. A lot better."

"Do you think you can walk? Master Plo and some other people are on their way, but it still might take a little while."

"Master Plo? Where's Qui-Gon?" Skywalker rubbed his face slowly. "How did you get here _first_? Did you run off or something? That could have been dangerous."

That was rich, coming from him. As if any of us would be in this position if _Skywalker_ hadn't run off.

"We kind of had our own investigation," Ahsoka said as she helped Skywalker stand. Despite his sorry state, he supported his own weight remarkably well--he wasn't even swaying. "We managed to find you first."

"Wow. Nice. Having you as a Padawan's just the gift that keeps on giving." He coughed again, then looked over to Rex. "Rex. You're here too."

Rex nodded. "My General got himself kidnapped, sir." He held out Skywalker's lightsaber. "I believe this is yours."

Skywalker took his lightsaber back gratefully and let it hang loose between his fingers. I could feel prickling at the back of my neck again. The Force was still moving around us, like a heavy storm system centered on Skywalker, ready to let loose. I gripped my baton tightly, thumb over the power switch. Any moment now, the other shoe would drop.

"You guys are the best. I never thought you'd get here so fast," Skywalker said.

"We had help from Detective Obi-Wan," Ahsoka said.

All at once, the Force went ice-cold.

"Obi-Wan?" Skywalker said.

Ahsoka nodded slowly. "Right. Obi-Wan Kenobi. The private investigator you hired? He helped us find you after you got kidnapped."

Hazily, as if only just now realizing I was there, Skywalker's gaze moved up to meet mine. His expression was murderous. " _You,_ " he snarled.

I took a few steps back. "Hello, Skywalker."

Skywalker ignited his lightsaber, pointing it at me. The whitish-blue blade was almost too bright in the dim reactor chamber. " _You_ did this to me!"

"What?" Ahsoka said. "Skyguy, no, Obi-Wan helped us--"

Skywalker shoved her away. "You tricked me! You betrayed me to the _Sith!_ "

I took a deep breath. "I beg your pardon?"

He stalked towards me, one step forward for each of my steps back, his lightsaber still aimed directly at my face--not my favorite place to have a lightsaber. The Force whipped around him, churning with anger and hurt. "Don't 'beg your pardon' me. You know what you did. I _trusted_ you."

A realization dawned on me. Who had Skywalker trusted to investigate his blackmailing? Not his friends, not his student or officers, but _me._ "He told you he was working for _me._ You thought he would help you confront the blackmailer. _That's_ how he lured you into that abandoned apartment."

"You couldn't even do it yourself," Skywalker spat. "You had me going with all your professional honor and integrity talk, but you're just as bad as everyone else! Is teaming up with Sith worth it?"

I held up my hands, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. "Skywalker, he lied to you. I'm not working with the Sith. I never have."

"Don't lie to me!" Skywalker screamed. If he could have put his lightsaber _more_ in my face, he would have. "I'm not letting you hurt me anymore."

"I am not--"

But Skywalker was done with words. He threw himself at me, slashing his saber. I deflected the blow with my baton, but only barely--the blade cut close enough to feel the burn, then down across the floor in a red-hot trail.

He struck again, faster, nearly spearing me as I flung myself out of his saber's path. The Force cut loose around him like a hurricane, with currents so strong I could hardly breathe.

"You'll pay for what you did to Padmé and me," Skywalker told me as I clumsily rolled back to my feet. He stepped towards me slowly, swinging his blade into a salute I didn't recognize. "I'll make you regret ever meeting me."

I raised my baton to a guard position. "Don't worry about that; I already do."

This was apparently not the correct response. Skywalker flung out his hand, snarling, and his Force lashed out, throwing me back and crushing tight around my throat. I choked.

I struggled against the hold, struggled to keep my thoughts straight and push the Force out of me and get air in my lungs. I couldn't hear and couldn't see. I blinked, and blinding blue filled my vision, hanging above me like an executioner's blade. I saw lips move, but there were no words.

The Force moved. The saber flashed. I braced for impact.

It never came. The Force loosened from my throat, and suddenly I was looking at _green_.

Ahsoka stood over me, locked against Skywalker's lightsaber with her own. From my place on the floor, I could see her shake under his strength, but she held.

"Get out of the way," Skywalker told her. "Don't make me hurt you."

"No!" Ahsoka shouted back. "Obi-Wan is here to help you! We all are!"

"If you want to help me, then get out of my way!" Skywalker roared, pressing down harder with his blade.

Ahsoka buckled slightly, but regained her composure. "I won't let you kill an innocent person."

"You're _my_ Padawan, and you're going to pick him over me?" Skywalker growled. "I see how it is. This is just another trick. You don't care about me at all, do you?"

Ahsoka's foot slid back slightly as she struggled to hold Skywalker back. "Skyguy, that's not true, that's not what's going on. You have to calm down--"

 _"Don't tell me what to do."_ Skywalker pulled his blade away and raised it once more, the Force roaring behind him with raw power--

A blaster shot rang out, and Skywalker flicked his blade back to deflect it. Blue plasma struck the reactor chamber's floor with a hiss. Skywalker whirled to face Rex.

"Sir," Rex said, his blaster pistol aimed at Skywalker's center of mass. It was still smoking. "Put down the weapon before you hurt the Commander."

"You, too, Rex?" Skywalker asked, hurt as he could sound when he was threatening a friend with a deadly weapon.

"Turn the lightsaber off, General," Rex said. "We can discuss this peacefully later, somewhere safer. Someplace that _isn't_ a Sith hideout."

"So what, go peacefully with you so you can shoot me in the back?" Skywalker demanded. "Where is Qui-Gon? If you're really trying to help, _he_ should be here!"

"He's on his way," Rex said.

Skywalker stepped towards him. "You're lying--you don't believe that. I can feel it in the Force. Where is he? Did you _do_ something to him? _He_ would never betray me."

Ahsoka spoke up. "He's at the Temple. He wasn't part of the search party because he was on mission when you got captured."

"Why didn't you tell him where I was? Why isn't he with you instead of _that_?" Skywalker shot back, jabbing his saber at me. 

Ahsoka took a step towards me, bringing up a low guard with her saber. "Because--" she trailed off.

Skywalker rounded on her, his anger flaring through the Force like a burst of fire. "Because _what?_ Tell me!"

"Because I don't trust him!" Ahsoka shouted. "Because his second Padawan Fell and then he left his third one to die! I won't have him let you down, too!"

White-hot _hatred_ poured out of Skywalker like a plume of lava, and Ahsoka nearly collapsed from it before I caught her. "Don't say that about Qui-Gon!" Skywalker screamed. "He's a great man and the best of the Order. He believed in me when nobody else in the karking Temple did! You're just as bad as all of them, slandering him when he's only ever done the right thing!"

I wondered, not for the first time, what Skywalker saw in Master Jinn. Had he been truly loved like I never had? Or had he, taken from the hellhole that is Tatooine at such an old age, suffered when he didn't understand the ways of the Temple and never fit in, and took solace in the only sympathetic ear, the Master who Searched and claimed him?

Skywalker had built pedestals for everyone he loved, and Master Jinn seemed to be one of the highest of all. Some whitewashed and unattainable ideal Jedi who flouted rules and did what he wanted as the Force willed. Someone who was attached to _him_ , someone who knew how to _care_ so deeply and obsessively and wanted Skywalker to be a Jedi so _much_ when everyone else had doubts. Heroic. Unyielding.

Just as Master Jinn had staked his redemption on the back of a nine-year-old youngling, Skywalker had staked his ideals on the back of a broken and wounded man.

A match made in the deepest of Sith hells, indeed. I could taste bile at the back of my throat.

I looked up at Skywalker. His rage had rendered him practically unrecognizable. Ahsoka groaned in pain, and I squeezed her gently. She was shaking. Scared to hell, and who wouldn't be? With her direct bond to Skywalker, his incandescent anger probably felt a lot worse for her than anyone else.

"Skywalker, Master Jinn isn't coming because this would break him," I said. "If not seeing you like this, then it would be seeing the Sith he failed to kill eleven years ago on Naboo."

"You don't know _anything_ about Qui-Gon!"

"I know a bit," I said. "I was his third Padawan."

Skywalker's eyes narrowed. "You're lying."

"I wish I was. My life would be more pleasant." I got up to my feet slowly. "Master Jinn isn't the perfect man you think he is, and he would not be happy to see you in this state. He trusts you, Skywalker. He doesn't believe you _can_ Fall--seeing you like this would break his heart beyond repair."

"I am not going to _Fall!_ "

"You're out of control. You're so angry it's hurting your Padawan," I told him. "Do you even care?"

"That's _your_ fault! You turned all my friends against me!" Skywalker spat. "Are you satisfied, _Obi-Wan_? No wonder Qui-Gon left you. He must have known you'd end up like this. A traitor. A _disgrace._ "

"If I am disgraceful to you, that's a function of your moral failings, not mine," I said. "I have not lied to you since we met, Skywalker. I will freely admit I do not like you. But I am still here to help you because you are a person and don't deserve to be hurt any more than anyone else." I opened my arms, trying to inject some semblance of calm into this rapidly devolving situation. "I don't want to fight. Calm your anger. Deactivate your saber. Your Padawan and your Captain can help get you somewhere away from the Sith. Your peers from the Temple are coming to give you medical assistance and ensure your safety. Please."

Skywalker's expression wavered for a hopeful moment, then hardened again. "No. You're _evil._ You're working with the Sith. You _betrayed_ me." He snarled, an almost inhuman sound. "I'm ending what Qui-Gon started."

The Force spiraled out of him in heavy waves, and like a creature of fury and power he descended upon me, his blade blinding-bright. He was faster than me, but his fury made him raw and the Force moved through him and his lightsaber together now more than ever--I could feel the motion of his blows a half-second before they landed. I deflected as he rained blows on me, but even a phrik baton couldn't stand up against a lightsaber indefinitely--already the heat burned down my gloves each time it connected--and every failed blow only enraged Skywalker further.

He slashed crossways and I threw myself out of the way, rolling back to my feet and striking at his knees. He knocked me back with the Force and slashed again.

I couldn't dodge it. His saber cut across my back, searing me from shoulder to hipbone. I rolled and recovered my wits just long enough to realize I wasn't dead and smelled scorched fabric and burning hair. A few strands fell free down my ear and I realized he'd gotten my braid.

He struck again. I caught his blade on the downward swing, bracing my baton with both hands. Electricity screeched against his lightsaber, and voltage buzzed against my mechanical hand as he bore down with all his strength. I turned the baton and shoved him back.

He staggered only a step or two, and blaster fire went off again. Skywalker deflected the bolts, barely glancing to where Rex was trying to unload on Skywalker and disable him.

"Hold your fire!" I shouted, swinging my baton at Skywalker's stomach.

He blocked it on a low guard and chopped upwards, shearing my weakened baton in two and nearly bisecting me lengthwise. Without looking, he flicked his hand and the Force crested, throwing Rex into the wall with a crash. I didn't see if he got back up.

Skywalker's sharp gaze fell on me. The Force around him was so oppressive now that it was all I could do to keep it from crushing me. He would kill me if I gave him the chance. We both knew it.

If I didn't end this now, I was dead. Likely, so were Ahsoka and Rex. I couldn't let that happen.

I whipped the metal hilt of my baton at his head. He sidestepped and lunged at me, swinging down, and I did the unthinkable.

I caught the blade.

The plasma burned straight through my gloves and crashed hard against the phrik plating of my mechanical hand. It hurt. I won't lie about that. Heat burned all the way up to my neural port and seared me where the plating touched flesh. My hand spasmed under the heat of Skywalker's saber, but it held. I shoved the blade back on him and tore the saber from him with my other hand.

The blade extinguished and I clubbed him with the hilt, right in the jaw. He reeled. Flinging his lightsaber aside, I grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him down into my knee. It impacted the soft part of his stomach and he doubled over, gagging.

I tried to put him in a hold, but he got his hands on my shoulders and smashed his head to mine. Stars burst across my vision, but I held him. I barely dodged a flyaway punch at my face, then pivoted on my foot and threw Skywalker over my back. He hit the floor hard.

With my only functioning three mechanical fingers, I pulled the Force-suppressing cuff from my wrist and snapped it onto his. Skywalker cried out, the wild Force around him stilling with almost violent abruptness.

I pinned Skywalker down, straddled over him, hands on wrists. I was breathing hard, my hair was falling loose down my face, and my arm and back were burning. He snarled at me and tried to get loose, but without the Force, he wasn't strong enough to break my grip. I had to end it. I pushed as much of the Force into my voice as I could muster and hissed, _"Calm yourself."_

My words rippled through him like a stone dropped into a pond. Skywalker's eyes went glassy for a moment, then slowly met mine, still hazy and out of focus. "Master?" he said.

What the hell.

"Master," he said, more desperately. "You're here. He said you weren't coming. He said you didn't care about me. But I knew he was lying. You always come back for me."

Someway, somehow, between my use of the Force and his own disorientation, he thought I was Master Jinn. That made me feel sick for a lot of reasons, but I had never seen a weakness I wasn't willing to exploit. I made a decision he'd probably never forgive me for.

"Yes," I said, the Force still humming through my voice. "I'm here, Anakin. You don't have to fight anymore."

Tension bled out of Skywalker's face and he stopped trying to fight my grip. "I'm sorry," he said. "You're always telling me to be mindful of my actions and not to run off on my own, but Padmé was in trouble. I had to do _something._ "

Slowly, I let go of his wrists. He made no motion to attack me again. "It's all right, Anakin. Padmé is safe. You can rest now."

I tried to give myself from space from Skywalker, but he clutched at my coat and said, "He--the Sith--he made me call him Master." He blinked tears out of his eyes. "I didn't want to. I'm not a slave anymore, I don't have to call anyone Master if I don't want to, but he hurt me--I'm sorry, Qui-Gon. I didn't mean it. I'm a Jedi. I'm a _good_ Jedi, Qui-Gon. I don't want to be a Sith. Please don't be mad at me."

It struck me, then and there, how _young_ Skywalker was. Twenty years old--barely an adult, if at all. Any other Jedi would still be a Padawan, just now venturing into missions on their own to prepare for leaving their Master and figuring out their place in the galaxy and who they _are_. Not getting kidnapped and tortured by Sith.

I didn't know if he was the Chosen One. Honestly, I didn't care. For all of Skywalker's idiocy, for all his power, he was only human and scared and desperate for support. He didn't need all the responsibility of a General in a war--he needed someone who could teach him some kind of inner peace and keep him from burning himself alive, and everyone else with it. He needed guidance. He needed _help_.

It was cruel to lie to him like this, but I wasn't risking myself and Ahsoka and Rex for some sense of moral superiority.

I took a deep breath. "No. I'm not angry, Anakin. Just rest. I'll take care of the Sith."

He smiled weakly, and even with the Force-suppressing cuff on him, I could feel the heartbreaking amount of _trust_ he had, even now. "Thank you, Master," he said, and slipped into unconsciousness.

I waited to see if he'd wake up again, but he didn't. Thank the Force. I would not have lasted a second confrontation.

Feeling raw, I got up--then fell back down. Standing made me dizzy. My throat and back and arm hurt. I felt beaten all over--probably because I was. My mechanical hand was barely functional and kept sending false signals that hurt a whole lot more than a fake hand had any right to, as if the burns around my neural port weren't bad enough. That's what they never tell you when you get a cybernetic prosthetic--you don't need nerves in it to make it hurt, and damaged connectors are the worst feeling in the galaxy, even worse than the neural port surgery post-op. Clumsily, I groped with my neural port and switched the whole thing off. That was better, better being a relative term. It'd take a lot more than turning my hand off to make the pain go away. 

I lay on my back and breathed in, then out. It felt like breathing fire both ways, but I did such a damn good job breathing I deserved a medal for it. Now that I'd cuffed Skywalker, the Force was quiet, even from coming off of suppression. I had to admit, the factory's Force-shielding was pretty impressive--it would have to be, to conceal whatever had happened in here from the entire Jedi Order. Without Skywalker's noise to blot everything out, I could feel something else in the Force, a cold creeping Darkness.

I felt eyes on me from above. Calm, but intent. It wasn't a hard guess who it might be. I looked up into the darkened catwalks and thought I saw pinpricks of golden eyes, but it was so far up I probably only imagined it. Didn't mean they weren't there. 

"Detective?"

I glanced up at Rex. He was limping, but he could stand unsupported, which put him a few notches above me. "Soldier. Are you okay?"

He nodded. "The armor took most of the hit. I'll be fine."

I glanced back to where Ahsoka was, senseless on the floor. The psychic backlash from Skywalker's anger had thoroughly knocked her out. Stronger Jedi had been put down with less. "Are you well enough to take Skywalker and Ahsoka?"

"Detective?"

"The Sith is here, Rex," I said, gesturing up towards the catwalks. "He's probably been here the whole time. You have to get Skywalker and Ahsoka somewhere safe."

Rex knelt beside me. "But what about you? You can't fight a Sith."

"I'm not planning to. I'm going to talk to him. It'll buy you time."

"You can't!"

"Rex. I have reasons for this outside of Skywalker. Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

Distress rolled off of Rex as he looked at my sorry state. "Detective--"

"Do you remember what I told you yesterday? That time is now. I'm telling you to run. Your duty is Skywalker and Ahsoka. I can't even stand--I won't be any help. Get out of here," I said. "That's an order, Soldier."

Rex paused for only one more moment, then nodded sharply and hauled Skywalker over his shoulders. "Don't die, Obi-Wan."

"I won't. I promised I'd stay safe, remember?" I smiled, though I don't imagine it helped.

If he responded, I don't remember. I closed my eyes and listened to his footsteps become fainter and fainter. It took a few seconds, or a few minutes--I couldn't say--and then I was alone with the sound of crackling electron conduits and the panting of my breath. I listened to it and felt the Force swirling through me.

Grant me strength, I asked it. Please.

I heard rustling fabric, then soft footsteps. I opened my eyes and found gold and red staring back.

I took a deep breath. "Hello, Maul."


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final confrontation.

Maul looked just as I remembered from our last conversation the previous morning--gaunt red cheeks covered over in black tattoos and a piercing gaze that saw straight to the core of me. He stood loose with the casual grace and coiled violent air of a hunter. He was still wearing my clothes. I had mixed feelings about that.

With a flick of the Force, he called Skywalker's abandoned lightsaber to his hand and ignited it. Bright blue light cast an eerie glow on his face and he twirled it once before deactivating the blade. He didn't put it back down.

"Kenobi," he said, looking down at me. He wasn't sneering or anything. I might even say he was sorry. "We meet again. You appear to have had a...harrowing experience."

"You could call it that, yes." I pushed myself upright to see him properly. "I hope you don't mind if I'm seated for this conversation. I don't think I'll stay standing for long if I try."

"It makes no difference to me," Maul said. He tossed Skywalker's lightsaber between his hands. "This is a well-made saber. You fought adequately against it."

"You _are_ allowed to give a straight compliment, Maul," I said. "If you think I did well, you can just say so."

"...You did well. You were surprisingly well-equipped to fight a Jedi. I didn't realize your hand was lightsaber-resistant."

"Yes, well, you only get surprised by a lightsaber _once_ before planning for it for the rest of your life," I said. I pulled my shirt collar down to show him my old lightsaber scar. "Obviously, cortosis would have been better, but I can't afford that much on a private investigator's pay."

"Who taught you to fight like that? It wasn't the Jedi, I'm sure."

"Jedha, for a while. Then I worked with Jango Fett, and he prefers his traveling companions combat-worthy. I've beaten him quite a number of times, armed and unarmed. Even against a Jedi, that counts for something."

Maul snorted. "Are you trying to impress me? You can't defeat me, Kenobi. You can't even stand."

"Oh, I know. I was just making conversation," I said. "I understand that's an unusual concept for you."

"Hmph." Maul rolled his shoulders and said, "Why did you come? I thought I told you to stay out of my business, Kenobi."

"And I told you that was fine, as long as your business wasn't any of my business. Then you kidnapped my client." Idly, I pried the fingers open on my mechanical hand to check the damage--most of the linear actuators were melted beyond repair. I'd have to get a full replacement, assuming I got out. I wasn't looking forward to that. "But you must have known we'd cross paths again. You probably knew it ever since you followed me from that abandoned apartment two days ago."

Maul bowed his head in what was probably agreement. "How did you find me? I erased all my tracks."

"In the Force, maybe, but I'm not a Jedi; I didn't use the Force to find you. You didn't bother to disguise yourself when people were actively trying to kill you. Even though they were just two-bit thugs, I figured you probably wouldn't bother in general. I put out a search and got lucky."

Maul scoffed. "Luck."

I shrugged. "Luck makes a big difference. Luck was getting attacked and learning you were Force-sensitive. Luck was seeing that scar over your heart. Luck was you being in my apartment and emotions running high enough for your dreams to cross over to mine." I slumped forward, leaning against my knees. "What _wasn't_ luck was you talking to me in that restaurant in the first place. You didn't have to do that, and I probably wouldn't have found you for another few days if you hadn't. Why reveal yourself, Maul?"

Maul squat down so he was eye-level with me and tilted his head to one side. "You're the investigator, Kenobi. Why don't you tell me?"

"I wouldn't presume to know your thoughts, my dear," I said. "But if you insist, I can hazard a guess. You were watching that building, or running some kind of maintenance on it to prepare for luring Skywalker there. But then I showed up. You had no idea who I was, much less that Skywalker had hired me to investigate his blackmail. Since you hadn't even sent out the letter with the address on it yet, you wanted to know how I was involved, and how I'd found that building--maybe you even suspected I was working for your former Master."

Maul growled. "My Master would not have employed the likes of you."

"But you weren't sure. You didn't know if I _knew_ something. I didn't, but you needed to draw Skywalker into your trap without anyone's knowledge, including your Master, which makes using his address on your letters pretty ballsy, I have to say." I had my guesses why Maul used that Senate return address--it was one of the few Coruscant addresses he knew, or he knew that, for security reasons, that office didn't allow packages from private delivery services so it never would have reached them. It didn't really matter at this point. "If nothing else, Skywalker could have brought it to him and unraveled everything."

"He didn't," Maul said.

"No, he didn't. You calculated pretty well on that one. When you sent that letter, Skywalker knew you knew about his relationship with Senator Amidala, and he couldn't risk letting that secret out, so he stayed quiet. But then there was me. I showed up out of nowhere and one word from me in the right ears could have ruined the entire plan. That was unacceptable. You tailed me from that building to the restaurant, and confronted me intending to find out what I knew. Is that correct?"

"Impressive," Maul said. "I see you come across your work honestly, Kenobi."

I bowed my head. "Sure. I didn't stay in this business just for my good looks and my ability to eat a blaster bolt or two. There's still one thing I'm not clear on."

"Oh? Your esteemed intellect has fallen short, has it?"

"When you first confronted me," I said. "Did you mean to kill me?"

Maul leaned back, toying with the lightsaber again. That didn't seem safe, but at least he kept the open end aimed away from me. "Yes," he said.

"Why didn't you? We were alone in an unpopulated area, and then in my apartment. By the time you left, I'd told you Skywalker had hired me to investigate his blackmail--you must have known by then that I was working alone. I was _sleeping_. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to get rid of me. No one could have stopped you, and no one would have found out until it was too late. But you didn't."

Slowly, Maul's gaze turned on me, just as piercing and intense as the first time we'd met. "It would have served no purpose."

"It would have stopped your entire plot from being discovered," I said. "Skywalker might not have been found for weeks yet. Would that be long enough to force him to Fall? I don't know, but it would do much better than the day and a half it took for me to catch up with you." I sighed. "Maul. You can just _say_ you didn't want to. It's not bad to _not_ murder someone."

Maul's jaw clenched. "Don't think so highly of yourself, Kenobi. You mean nothing to me and you have changed nothing about my plans. Skywalker can't leave this building as long as that implant is active, and I still have access to the building's speakers. One sentence from me and I'll have him shedding Jedi blood easily enough."

"He won't listen to you," I said.

"Don't be naïve. I have not wasted my time with the Chosen One--I have trained him well enough. Even if he says otherwise, his subconscious knows that I am his true Master. If I speak, he will submit to me."

It didn't feel like a bluff. From what I knew of slave implants, it was possible to break someone that fast, though I didn't have any point of reference for using that kind of thing against a Jedi. It was probably similar. A brain was a brain, no matter the Force-sensitivity. I had learned that just fine as a Padawan when I'd been mind-wiped as easily as anyone else.

It should have scared me, to know Ahsoka and Rex still weren't safe--far from it, so long as Skywalker had that thing in his back--but all I could muster was incredible exhaustion. All I had to do, all I _could_ do was stall for time. Stall until the Jedi arrived and could deactivate the implant and get everyone to safety. I had no idea when that would be.

"Why did you pick this place?" I asked, gesturing to the cavernous chamber around us. "The reactor, of course, because you meant to lure Master Jinn here to see his Fallen apprentice, and you wanted to remind him of your previous encounter, but surely that can't be all. Is there some personal significance?"

Maul's presence in the Force unfolded like a flower blooming. A deep freezing hatred uncoiled from within him, spiraling out in a storm that tore against my senses. I shuddered under the pressure of it with a shiver, physically chilled from the few seconds it took to adjust myself so it could flow away from me.

"This building," Maul said, his voice low and hard, "was once one of my many prisons within Coruscant. My Master often held me here when I slaved to him. Sometimes for training. Sometimes for punishment."

"For a Sith Apprentice, I imagine the two aren't all that different."

Maul grinned toothily. "Yes. I suppose you have learned about that, too. Very impressive. I learned hatred in this building as a Sith Apprentice. It seemed...suitable that I would teach it as a Sith Lord here."

"You had Skywalker call you Master," I said.

"He _is_ a slave. He was born a slave and he will die a slave. Where I broke my chains when my Master cast me aside, that boy, the _Chosen One,_ has only traded his shackles for new ones. If my Master's wishes come to fruition, he will never do anything else." The Force swelled with hatred around Maul, burning me with its sheer intensity. "Would you blame me for simply helping him fulfill his destiny?"

"Yes, actually. Do you really think imprisoning and traumatizing a young man is a _good_ thing?"

Maul rose to his feet, snarling. "I did nothing my Master never intended to do. I made that _boy_ suffer, and I would teach him to crave the Dark Side and all its power. It isn't even difficult--my Master has already done so much with him, groomed him for it since the moment he discarded me. There is _hatred_ in that boy." His lip curled in disgust. "Such a pathetic little thing. All his power and talent, and his only fate is to become a slave at my Master's feet. He should _thank_ me, and so should his useless Jedi Master. At least if the Chosen One takes his place at my side, he can save his precious, worthless Republic instead of destroying it. At my side, he may even one day break his chains. That is far more mercy than my Master would ever afford him." He bared his teeth at me. "He may resist, but he knows he is mine."

I felt something curl deep in the pit of my stomach. It took a few seconds to recognize it as disgust.

I think I had known, as much as I ever know when I meet someone, that Maul was capable of cruelty. He had so much hatred and pain and he'd held it so long that it had _become_ him--it was the connective tissue between his flesh and bones, the pulse in his blood, the electric potential in his brain. It was as indelible on his spirit as the multitude of scars carved into his flesh, and to give up his anger now would be to give up _himself_. With hatred so deep, it would be miraculous if he _wasn't_ cruel. In the quiet of my apartment, it had been easy to accept that he had killed before, and just as easy to accept that he had staked everything--his life and his goals--on this unfinished business. This _revenge._ He would burn his aggressors to nothing or immolate himself in the attempt. Even in our brief acquaintance, I knew that as sure as breathing.

Knowing wasn't the same as seeing. There were no doubts when I had seen Skywalker, collared and chained in mind and body with that _thing_ embedded between his shoulder blades in a sick endeavor to break him down to his base elements. To Maul, Skywalker had long since ceased to be human. He was a token, a game piece in a greater scheme, a plaything to break to bridle and strip of his will.

I didn't like to see it.

"You can't do this, Maul."

Maul knelt down behind me and leaned in, looping one arm around my chest and gently but firmly pulling me back to lean against him. Skywalker's lightsaber, gripped loosely in his fingers, pressed against my sternum. "Why do you _care_ so much, Kenobi?" he asked. I could feel his breath on the back of my ear, and his Force wrapped around me. It was not the icy hatred he'd felt towards Skywalker and his Master, but something strong and fiery, intoxicating in its warmth and I leaned into it without thinking to. "The Chosen One is nothing. He's slaughtered innocents. He's acted in revenge. He would easily kill for that Senator he's so smitten with. He is uncontrolled and ruled by his passions. He's no Jedi. _This_ is what your Master Jinn left you for."

I turned my head up to look at him. From so close, the bold black tattoos on his face were nearly hypnotic, or maybe I was just exhausted. "How do you know about Master Jinn?"

"I searched the Temple records," Maul said, and he had me pressed so close I could feel the vibration of his voice in his chest. "You made me curious, Kenobi. I could hardly resist the opportunity."

"You accessed my records from inside the Temple?" My brows drew together. " _You're_ the one who tried to break into the Temple Archive vault yesterday. Why?"

"Eleven years ago, Qui-Gon Jinn stole my life and my lightstaff," he said. "I was only taking back what is mine."

"You didn't succeed. I'd have heard about it if you had."

"No, unfortunately not. But I found something more valuable, Kenobi." He ran his free hand through my hair, loosening what little was left of my braids. "I learned about _you._ Imagine my surprise when I found your former Master was Qui-Gon Jinn. I would expect cruelty from him as an enemy, but you were his _apprentice._ He picked you up when the Jedi threw you away for the first time and you were desperate. You gave him everything and he never appreciated any of it. No, he thanked you for all your efforts by throwing you away and nobody ever went back to see what became of you. There were no missions sent to search for you--I checked. All those Jedi, and not a single one of them cared about you, a youngling left to the mercies of the galaxy. They don't deserve you."

I blinked slowly. My thoughts felt sluggish and formless even as his words and voice seemed to pierce straight through my consciousness with perfect clarity. He was telling the truth--I knew enough of the facts to know that.

"Doesn't that make you angry?" Maul murmured in my ear. "Your Master _abandoned_ you. The Jedi never cared about you. Skywalker _replaced_ you. They don't deserve your love or forgiveness, Kenobi. They're rotten, all of them. Purging them will only make the galaxy better."

The Force coiled more tightly around me like a heavy cloak, sinking through my skin with the feeling of _rightness_ despite the aggressiveness of his words. That wasn't...right. Maul was...

I licked my lips. Maul had me held firmly between his arms and his chest, so close that I could feel his body heat against mine. I was tired, and I ached all over. I wanted sleep, peaceful sleep and strong arms around me. I could listen to him for hours and feel that voice rumbling against my skin, if he let me. I'd like that. I'd like it a lot.

No. Stop. That wasn't right. I was supposed to do something. I was _trying_ to do something, but reaching into my memory was like trying to fish something out of a jar of honey. Something about Maul made me gooey and slow and as long as I felt his pulse against mine, so close and steady, I didn't mind it at all. Not when his Force wrapped me protectively, easing that ache in my chest.

I reached up to his face, or tried. I couldn't see straight. My arms felt like lead. I don't think I made contact. "Maul, my dear, are you trying to _seduce_ me?"

Maul's hold tightened. "Kenobi, I don't want to kill you. But if you stand between me and my revenge, I will have no choice."

"There's always a choice, Maul."

"Not for you," Maul said. "Give up Skywalker--you can't save him. Give up Qui-Gon Jinn and the Jedi--they're all doomed for destruction and you'll be happier if you don't care for any of them. Nothing you do now will help them."

He was right. I had never saved anyone who mattered, and all my love had only ended in broken hearts--mostly mine. What would it be like, to be in a universe where the very cosmos didn't aim to hurt me? A universe where I didn't have to keep giving my heart to people, knowing they'd just rip it out? How bad could it _be,_ to simply stop caring?

"You've suffered so deeply," Maul said, and there was a resonance to his words that echoed deep in my mind. "You say you've let your hatred go, but it's still in you--I can feel it. It always will be there, and you can't fight it forever. If you let it in, if you stop _caring_ so much, you could have everything you ever wanted. All you have to do is join me, Kenobi."

"Wouldn't be much of a partnership," I murmured. "I can't use the Force anymore."

"Is that what you think? The Jedi lied to you--you know it, don't you? You've felt the Force in its entirety. I can feel it on you. It's not Light. It's cold and expansive and it _doesn't care._ It can't give you true power--only you can give it to yourself, pull it from within. You _have_ power. You just have to reach out and _take it._ "

He pressed his hand to my chest, and I _felt_ something swell in my heart, the strong pulse of the Force against my ribcage like I had once felt it over twenty years ago. It flooded me through with warmth, chasing away the aches and pain both inside and out, vibrating with heady _power._

Maul leaned in and brushed his hand over my temple, caressing the side of my face with cool fingers. "Don't you see? The Dark Side is strong with you. You could be great. You could be _Sith._ "

He said it like a promise, and in that moment, I _wanted_ it. I wanted to be _part_ of something. I wanted to have that _connection_ to other people and the galaxy that I'd lost all that time ago. The Jedi had long since left me behind for the anger and hatred that still rested in me. I had suffered--by the Force, I'd suffered--and it wasn't _wrong_ to want to get something for all that I'd lost. I'd spent twenty years learning to do things for myself, twenty years learning that I was the only person who would never let me down, so how would this be any different?

What even was a Sith? Creatures of legend, the historical enemy of the Jedi--what did that matter now? A Sith had me in his arms, gentle and kind as anyone who'd ever held me, only a person with flesh and blood like everyone else. Thinking about it that way, it didn't seem like such an unattainable thing.

My mouth moved slowly. "I thought you wanted Skywalker to be your Sith Apprentice?"

Ice crept into the Force. "Skywalker has raw power, but he doesn't have your intellect--you tracked me here, after all, and so quickly. I would only ever use Skywalker as a tool, and a blunt instrument at that, but you...have _potential_. You could change the galaxy at my side. A Master and an Apprentice. For that, I would easily sacrifice Skywalker--the Chosen one would be quite the worthy kill for you, I think."

A sacrifice. Against my mental haze, I saw a sudden insight shining through, the final thread in this tapestry of deceit and violence.

" _That_ was the trap," I breathed. "Not just for Master Jinn to see Skywalker Fallen, but to have Skywalker _kill_ him and push him to the Sith before your own Master could."

There was a sick ingenuity to that, using Skywalker as a fulcrum to take revenge against Master Jinn and the Sith Master in a single stroke. Efficient and elegant.

"Yes," Maul purred. "You're so quick as always. But plans can change, and I wouldn't mind changing them for you. We are the same, the two of us. Taken from our homes to be raised in the Force, apprenticed to uncaring Masters, and abandoned for the Chosen One. _I_ would not abandon you, Kenobi. Your Master was a fool to give you up, but you were stronger for it. I know your true value. Together, we could destroy your master and mine. With my power and your mind, we could rule the galaxy." He leaned in, so close that I could feel his breath on my face. "All you have to do is kill Skywalker."

My stomach twisted. Disgust struck, sharper than ever, and it dragged me to the surface of my own mind like a fish on a line, breaking through the sluggishness and the Force holding tight to me. "Do you honestly think I'd do that?"

"You can, Kenobi." He pressed Skywalker's lightsaber into my hand. "It would be easy. I can call him back and have him sit for his execution. No fighting--you proved yourself more than capable already. All you would have to do is put the saber to his heart and flick the switch."

I dropped the lightsaber and it clattered on the durasteel floor. "It's not about can or can't, it's that I _won't_."

Maul smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "You don't have a choice, Kenobi."

There was something in that--the flash of teeth, the rumble of his voice--that made everything _too much._ Suddenly, I couldn't stand it anymore. Not Maul's grinning face, not the crackle of the reactor chamber around us, not the press of his arms around my chest or the warmth of the Force, so heavy around us.

I pried his arms off of me and threw my elbow into his stomach. "Don't touch me," I growled. "I'm not here to play your games, Maul. If you think I'll kill an innocent and unarmed man on your say-so, you don't know me at all."

Faster than I could react, Maul snaked one arm around my throat and grabbed me by the hair, yanking me back and forcing me to look into his eyes, almost blood red. It occurred to me that from his position, it would only take a moment to kill me if he wanted--but then, that had been true since the start of the conversation. I had always been at his mercy.

"You don't have to fight this, Kenobi. We could both be much happier if you accept what I'm offering."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. The Force-- _my_ Force--churned beneath my skin like storm-choppy seas. It was more than disgust now. Revulsion. Betrayal.

When I had met Maul, he was an angry and hurt man who had suffered more than anyone ever should, who wanted revenge for the wrongs he'd endured. I'd felt sorry--I still did. Maybe his cruelty was the only way he had to relieve his pain.

But he hurt people. Innocents. Skywalker and who knew how many more. I couldn't ignore that, and I wouldn't make myself complicit in it.

Maul's fingers twisted in my hair, pulling uncomfortably. "I am trying to be gentle, Kenobi. But if you keep resisting, I do not mind using a firmer hand to convince you."

The Force grew cold around us, heavy and slow and bitter. It seeped into my skin with no resistance at all, like a numbing toxin. Taking it in felt like freezing from the inside out, the coldness crystallizing thoughts and feelings I'd left behind long ago.

Maul leaned in. "You have no choice, Kenobi. You _will_ join me."

I grit my teeth, even as I felt myself drift under the weight of the Force. "There's _always_ a choice," I hissed.

Maul grinned again. "Skywalker succumbed easily to the Dark Side. I look forward to seeing how you fare."

Maul tightened his grip and the Force crashed down on me. And then I was gone.

There was a collar around my neck, primed with high explosive. The key to saving a planet, only at the small cost of my life. There was a blaster in my hands, blood in my eyes, dirt in my mouth. I tried to pull a young boy off the battlefield to safety, but he wouldn't go, couldn't let go of his father, who we had shot not half an hour ago. There were screams in my ears, terror in my mind and I had to cut it out, stem it from the source, even if it meant ripping the Force itself out of my heart, then-- _no, no, I never meant to, I'm sorry, please come back, why did you leave_ \--

Master Jinn smiled down at me, but it never reached his eyes. He never saw me, even when he did look at me. I was a Padawan, but never his, not really. I was a shadow. A pale echo of Jedi who were better and stronger. Maybe it was better that way, to never shine bright enough to burn out. Better to give up now while I was ahead, to stand on my own. A ship took off, and with it, my last hopes of becoming a Jedi Knight-- _abandoned, the Jedi never wanted me anyways_ \--

There was shrapnel in my hand. We cleaned and dressed it, but something went wrong and the skin turned hard and black and we had to cut the whole thing off before it took my arm, too. It was a hard surgery--we were so young, it couldn't be anything else. I cauterized the stump, pressing it to red-hot durasteel because we had nothing better, and screamed as my flesh hissed and popped, and--oh, Force, the _smell._ I wondered, after, if that's what it felt like to get struck by a lightsaber. Seven years and a run-in with a Darksider later, I didn't have to wonder anymore.

\-- _useless, weak child. What is the point of a Jedi with no Force? What is the point of a soldier who can't shoot? What has all your selflessness gotten you but censure and pain?_ \--

Hyperspace opened up around me, whisking away Melida/Daan for the last time. I had nothing but the clothes on my back and a pitiful sum of credits, because that was all they could offer to a banished criminal. I didn't blame them. It had come out that I had made three leaders dead in as many nights--I wouldn't want me around a new government, either. If I'd stayed unpunished, the conflict would break out again, and the permanent banishment of an outsider for the peace of a world was a low price indeed.

It had been easy--that was the worst part. Sneak into a house in the dead of night and aim a blaster between the eyes. Hold a pillow against a nose and mouth. Draw a blade across an exposed throat, and it was done. With their sudden deaths, the last warmongering factions collapsed into chaos, and we made the final push to break them down. Three lives for thousands, but did that make it right? Maybe it didn't matter. The blood was already on my hands, and in getting it there, I had broken every principle I'd sworn to uphold. Now, with Melida/Daan light years behind me, it was over. I had no way to take it back.

\-- _you gave up everything for them and this is how they repay you? It only took one blaster bolt to restart a war, and you're capable of more than that. You could make them burn_ \--

I was twelve and ready to die. Thirteen and scared. Seventeen and desperate. Eighteen and lost. Twenty-three and letting Jango convince me to kill a man for money because it was the only thing I was good for anymore.

\-- _you are meant for great things, but no one will ever stand with you. The Light has rejected you. Your Order has abandoned you. You hate them all, you hate so much, and you have such potential, so much power. Why do you fight your fate so hard, child?_ \--

Why?

The Force roared beneath my skin, a live thing fighting for freedom. I struggled to hold myself together, to not fold open and let loose all the power that had poured itself into my skin and flesh against my will. Beneath my knees was a prayer mat on hard sandstone, and in front of me was Jedha's enormous kyber crystal that was like looking into the heart of the universe itself.

\-- _Why fight, child?_ \--

Why, indeed. I had nothing but hatred and failure. I'd fought my senseless war, been rejected by the Force and sent out to drift in the galaxy, been left bereft by the Code I'd sworn to uphold, even after my departure. Impulsive and angry. Destined to Fall. Why did I deserve to keep going? What was there to fight for?

The Force darkened, saturating me with hopelessness and helplessness. No one was coming back for me--no one ever had, and no one ever would. No matter what I did or tried, no one would even remember me. I was alone, and I always would be.

Eighteen years old and alone in a dusty inner sanctum of the Temple of Kyber, I stared into the heart of the universe and asked: Why does that matter?

The Whills, the unfeeling primordial Force as the Guardians at Jedha knew it, ripped through me, tearing past all my defenses. It was raw and vicious, like plasma through my veins, flooding me with the Force in a way I hadn't felt since I'd first lost it four years ago. It was the weight of the entire galaxy, a suffocating gravitational well that would devour me alive, and for a moment, it caught me in its grip and I felt the entire galaxy at once--infinitely large and silent and cold and stretching out to eternity. I was nothing but a pinprick of light so infinitesimally small that it could never be seen. Nothing I ever did--none of my help, none of my mistakes--would affect the universe in any noticeable way. Things that felt so big to me were so insignificant that the Force would never judge me for them. It didn't _care_ who lived or died or what crimes I committed or who I disappointed. Why should I?

I breathed against the crushing weight and said: because I am not the universe. I was not unfathomable or impersonal or uncaring. I was one person stranded in a cold and endless space with nothing but the company of other _people_ , and if I wanted warmth, it had to start from within. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to be kind. I didn't need a _reason_ \--there was nothing to prove to anyone except myself.

Once, I had been luminous. Not brightly shining like Xanatos or Skywalker or Master Jinn, but luminous nonetheless. Now, I was only such crude matter, made only to receive light and not to shine on others, but what of it? It wasn't the Force that let me be kind. I didn't have to justify my existence because I was a child of the Force, as all life was, filled with love and hope even in the face of incredible loss.

I breathed deep and felt the Force writhing in me like a venomous snake. The Dark Side felt oily and cold, and resonated deep in my insecurities and fears and never fully-purged hatred. It was a familiar song--no one really truly leaves behind their Darkness. In that, Maul had spoken truly.

I had so much anger--Force, I had so much of it, about so many things, for so long. I had crossed lines I wished I never had, I had lost my way more times than I could count, and I had betrayed my principles in fear and desperation and anger. I knew the worst in myself like the feeling of cartilage collapsing beneath my thumbs and I wasn't scared to look at it anymore, because there was a choice--there was _always_ a choice. I forgave the past that I could not change, set my eyes forward and _chose_ to be better and never looked back.

I exhaled, letting Maul's invasive Force drain out of my spirit until my Force was all mine again. There was Darkness there, still, Darkness from my own heart that had always been there. I soothed it and released the anger and the desperation and the hunger for _more._ It did not go quietly, but it was a struggle I was long used to, and it went.

I opened my eyes.

The floor was hard beneath my back and my body felt hollow and dull--not entirely physical, not yet. Above me stood Maul, his red-and-gold eyes wide with what might even be fear.

"Did you enjoy violating my privacy?" My voice croaked. I had no idea how much time had passed, though it couldn't have been _that_ long. "Was it everything you hoped for?"

Maul snarled. "How--What did you _do_?"

I sat up, still feeling slow and out of sync. "I don't need you to tell me what I've done and what I've lost and who I've hurt, Maul. I was there. I know what I'm capable of. But my past doesn't define me. Maybe ten or fifteen or twenty years ago, you could have offered me the Dark Side and all its power and promises and I'd have accepted. But that's not who's here--I am. I've changed and grown and I don't want any of that anymore. I've said it once and I'll say it again: I won't sacrifice myself for you, Maul."

Maul stepped back and ignited Skywalker's lightsaber. He twirled it once, but didn't aim it at me. That could change easily enough. "So you'll stand against me, even now."

"Maul." I carefully pushed myself to my feet. My legs held me, if unhappily. "What do _you_ want? Do you even want to be Sith?"

"I _am_ Sith."

"You said you broke your chains when your Master left you. Was that a lie?" I said. "You don't _have_ to be Sith. All the people you've hurt and killed, all the evil you might have done and all the things that have been done to you, what was it all for? What has being Sith done for you?"

"The Dark Side has made me _powerful!_ " Maul roared. "When Qui-Gon Jinn thrust his blade through my heart and left me for dead, my hatred kept me alive! It is the only thing that will see me through to the end of my Master and the pathetic Jedi Order!"

"The Dark Side has made you _lonely!_ " I shouted. "That's what the Dark Side _is._ It's selfish, it's greedy, it's the whisper in your mind that you can't trust anyone but yourself, that only you can get what you want if you _take_ it. It's not true, Maul. It's taken everything from you, hasn't it?"

Maul snarled. "Don't try to pity me. Don't act like you _know_ me."

"The object of your revenge is escaping and practically helpless and instead of going after him, you've been trying to convince me to become your companion because I was nice to you for _one night._ You don't want an apprentice, you want a _friend_. You don't want power, you want comfort and safety."

Maul stalked around me, like a wolf circling its prey. "Keep talking like that and I'll gut you here and now."

I let out a long, shuddering breath. "You didn't choose the Dark Side. I know you didn't. Your Master forced you into it and abused you and abandoned you. You don't owe him anything--you don't have to stay with the Dark Side anymore, just because it's what you've known your whole life. You can choose your own way. Learn something new, build yourself into something you _like._ You're not alone, Maul. I'm here for you. I will gladly help you, if you'd accept that."

"Oh?" Maul said, tilting his head to one side as he regarded me carefully. "And what would you have me do, Kenobi? Give myself over to the Jedi? Have them imprison and execute me for my crimes? I doubt you would let me simply _leave,_ now that you know my true nature."

"I would, actually," I said. "The Sith and the Jedi don't matter to me. If you'll give up this revenge of yours, if you free Skywalker and let the Jedi go and leave this building peacefully, then I won't try to stop you. Look at me--I've stood for less than five minutes and I'm already shaking. Nobody would question that I couldn't stop you. You can start something new, Maul. Look forward and _change._ Be _better._ Happier."

Maul raised the lightsaber so it was aimed directly at my heart. "And if I don't?"

Slowly, I reached into my coat and pulled out Jango's last gift--his ancient Jedi-killing slugthrower. It had a dull finish, tarnished with time, and it weighed heavy and cold in my palm, the knurled grip rough against the skin where my gloves had been burned away. "If you won't let this all go and walk away, then I have to stop you," I said.

"You think you could stop me? You would have to kill me to keep me from cutting you down. Could your soft heart bear that?"

"I don't shoot unless I mean to kill," I said. "Please. I won't sacrifice my life for yours, but it doesn't have to come to that. You have a choice. You've been hurt so much and you didn't deserve that. You deserve so much better than what you've gotten, and you can _have_ that. By the Force, I will do everything I can to help you if you give me the chance, but only _you_ can choose to let go of what's hurting you."

Maul closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He let it out, then fixed me with his gaze. There was something unfathomable in those eyes of his, of endless hurt and loneliness. I hated to see it. When he finally spoke, he did so softly and deliberately. "You really do love to hear yourself talk. All your kindness. All your _selflessness._ Even after I've tried to kill you multiple times, you're still _trying._ You're right--you have your choices and I have mine." Maul raised his saber into a proper salute. "I am sorry it has to end like this, Kenobi. I will give you the honor of being cut down from the front instead the back."

I aimed my slugthrower and thumbed back the hammer. "Maul, please. Don't try it."

He snarled and lunged at me.

I pulled the trigger.

The gun kicked back hard and the shot was deafeningly loud, ringing in my ears even as Maul's saber sputtered out. He stumbled mid-step, crashing into my arms and throwing us both to the ground.

With some difficulty, I sat up, supporting Maul's weight on my arms. On the front of his shirt was a growing spot of dark blood.

Maul groaned and stared at his lightsaber, eyes wide. "You--that was a _cortosis_ bullet?" Grimacing, he felt his chest. "You shot me in the heart. You're not as--" he coughed wetly, "--not so weak after all."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," I said. "I wish it could be any other way."

Maul breathed heavily, a wet, rasping sound. The Force swirled slowly around him, not angry or Dark or cold, just...scared. He reached out to me with it, pressing against my mind with the desperation of a drowning man clawing for a safety line. I allowed the touch, let him pass me all his fear and worry, and let them go into the Force.

"Stay with me," he said.

"Of course, Maul."

He relaxed in my grip. His gaze reached up to mine, hazy and unfocused and pale gold. "My brothers. Can you--can you take me to them? I want them to know what--" he coughed again, "--what happened to me."

"On Dathomir?"

Maul nodded. Already, I could feel his Force slowing as his life bled away. "Feral and Savage. Their names. Don't let the Jedi desecrate my body. My Master stole me from my home. I want to be buried there."

"I'll do it," I said.

"Thank you," he croaked. He smiled weakly--there was blood on his teeth. "It's not so bad to be killed by you. Maybe..."

"Maybe?"

"Maybe in another life, we could have been friends," Maul said. "I would have liked that. Kenobi."

"Maul," I said. "We were friends in this life."

Maul's brow furrowed. "Really?"

I pulled him up close to my chest. "You are my friend," I said. "And I like to think I was yours."

"Oh," Maul said, his chin draped over my shoulder. "You killed me, though."

I squeezed him gently. "I know. I'm sorry. I guess neither of us are very good at friendship."

He tried to loop his arms around my back, but didn't manage it. He sagged in my arms, boneless against my chest, breathing raggedly as he bled out all over me. I couldn't fix it, I couldn't take it back, but I could be there for him in these final moments.

It didn't feel like enough.

"I'll remember you, Maul," I murmured, and I felt the Force move as he heard it, even when he was too weak to respond. I held him until the Force within him finally stilled and he let out his last breath.

Only then, when he was truly gone, did I cry. It was loud and ugly and it echoed in the reactor chamber and between my teeth and lungs, a visceral and horrible sound for my ears alone. Not regret, but sorrow as bad as anything I'd ever done. We all had our choices, and I had made mine.

The Jedi, when they finally arrived, found me that way with Maul still clutched to my chest. That's the last I remember of that night.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan faces a new day.

When I was a Padawan, Master Jinn used to tell me that all things were the will of the Force. In this and many other respects, he had lied to me.

The relationship between a Jedi and the Force is strange from the outside looking in. It's built on the cornerstone of faith and devotion, but the Jedi don't _worship_ the Force, not the way the Guardians at Jedha do, or any other practitioners of Force religion. All through the crèche, we learn to listen to the Force and interpret its will and ask its guidance, and take it for granted that the Force will always be there for us. The Force is a friend and eternal ally--even when everything else is lost, there will still be the Force.

I believed in the will of the Force for a long time. It was hope in a time when I had none, and even when I couldn't hear the Force anymore, I found comfort knowing there was some grand cosmic plan and that all my efforts, my failures and successes and love and suffering were for a _reason._ I might die an ignoble death on Melida/Daan, disgraced and unmourned and unloved, but at least it would have meant something. Back then, it was easy to believe the Force cared about me in its own way--I had only known it as an ally and guiding hand, as all Jedi do.

Then I returned to Coruscant.

I was seventeen, almost eighteen, and just a few months out of Melida/Daan. I don't know why I returned to Coruscant then, except that I had been hollowed out and bled dry where the Force used to be and it had seemed very important, because when you're lost in a big, cold galaxy, any goal is one to seize with both hands. Maybe I planned to beg the Jedi for forgiveness and to take me back. There wasn't much point in trying--I no longer had the Force and my hands, or _hand_ at that point, were stained with the blood of innocents. There was no chance of them accepting me as a Jedi again, no matter how much I wanted it, but I had nothing to lose. No dignity, no pride, barely even a life. What was the worst that could happen? They punished me for my actions and locked me up for the rest of my life? I probably would have accepted that.

Looking back, I think I wanted to see my friends again.

Contrary to whatever delusions Bruck was operating under, I was not especially well-liked as an Initiate. I _wanted_ to be, desperately, but I was outspoken and awkward and rose easily to insults and slights, of which there were many. I got into fights and lost a lot of them. But despite the many flaws in my personality, I had friends. Bant, Garen, and Reeft when I was in the crèche, then an Initiate. Quinlan and Siri after I became a Padawan. Seeing them was worth everything, even facing the Temple and the Council's censure and the risk of running into Master Jinn again, though I can't say whether my aversion to him then was due to anger or shame.

I figured, even if they were angry at me for leaving, they might still accept me back even if the Order itself did not. I could stand not being a Jedi if it meant I could be with people I loved and who cared about me despite what I'd done, and not just because of the Force or honor or all those other things I'd lost. I wanted to be with people who would be willing to _take me back._

It wasn't easy to get to Coruscant--I had to work my way across the galaxy, and most spacers weren't eager to take on a teenager with an amputated hand, to say nothing of my other health problems at the time. It was only luck that I got to Coruscant at all within that first year.

I felt sick from the moment we entered atmo. From that distance, it wasn't the Force but simply seeing the planet again through the ship's viewport. I had my face pressed against the transparisteel, visually tracing the geometric cuts of district borders and ventilation shafts like printed circuit board patterns, the glittering lights all across Coruscant like a shimmering veil pulled across the planet's shadow, the relentless urban sprawl. That was what struck me most--it looked exactly how I remembered it from all those off-world missions I'd returned from, or after visiting Ilum. Even though my world had been thoroughly turned upside-down, Coruscant had not changed at all.

Our descent was slow and steady. I felt the Force then, a building pressure against what mental shields I could manage. I remember being confused about that--I had been in the proper city of Coruscant plenty of times as a Padawan, and never felt it so overwhelmingly as I did when we descended. And it only got stronger, cresting high like a tidal wave I couldn't stop or block out.

I staggered down the ship's exit ramp and put a foot onto the hangar duracrete, and all at once, the Force crashed down on me, ripping my shields away like nothing at all.

Suddenly, I wasn't there anymore. There wasn't even a _was, is,_ or _will be._ The Force took me, such an inconsequential soul against the entire universe, screaming into the maelstrom of a trillion lives and voices, deep into an abyss of chaos and emotion and life and death and I simply ceased to exist.

I think I died.

I don't know what happened after that. I only have a few lucid memories of the time that followed, a snatch of motion and a flash of a new planet, some new landscape before being whisked away in space and time. When I finally managed to resurface for good, clawing my way to consciousness, I was on a ship to a Mid-Rim planet I'd never heard of with only the clothes on my back, an empty blaster, and slightly _more_ credits than I'd had when I went to Coruscant. An entire month had passed.

That ill-fated trip to Coruscant left me changed. Not _fixed,_ not in my heart or my mind or in the Force, but the places I'd felt my spirit bleeding out since I'd lost the Force had scarred over with buzzing static, an echo of the torrential Force that had subsumed me. I knew two things then: that after two years of silence, I could feel the Force within my body again, and that the spirit that inhabited my flesh was no longer entirely mine. 

In that moment before the Force unmade me, I had felt it more intimately and viscerally than I ever had as a Jedi--it was not the friendly and stalwart beacon of strength I had known as a youngling, but the infinitely vast and unfathomable fabric of the universe, and for the first time in my life, the Force _terrified_ me.

The Force is not a _person._ It's not an entity, it's not a listening ear or a guiding hand--it's all of time and space. It's the forces between atoms, it's the bridge between synapse and consciousness, it's the inexorable march of entropy. It doesn't _care_. It doesn't _feel_. It's not a force of nature so much as it _is_ nature--it simply _is,_ and it will remain long after the stars have lived and died and returned to so much cosmic dust.

What the Jedi had taught me wasn't _wrong._ The guidance the Force provides is real--it _is_ connected to all living things, and the insight it provides by tracing along threads of space and time is undeniable and accurate, if difficult to interpret. It's smart of the Jedi to not delve deeper than they can interact with, simply out of self-preservation, and we had all learned out of the crèche that we would never fully understand the Force. Maybe in my young Padawan hubris, I had forgotten that.

Nobody could behold the Force in its entirety without going mad--the mind simply isn't built for it. Even Force-sensitives, who can reach through the fabric and pull on the individual threads, can't touch more than a few drops out of the Force's endless ocean. How could anyone, face to face with such an incomprehensible thing, be so blasphemous as to claim to understand its will?

I had briefly become one with the Force and it had sent me back--I felt its touch like a white-hot brand on my soul--and curled up tight in a corner of a ship I didn't know to a planet I'd never heard of, I tried desperately to figure out _why._ Did it mean something? Was there still some task I had to fulfill before being allowed to return home?

I had always known in my heart that I was little more than the plaything of the Force--my body was its vessel and my mind was its voice, and I had been bound to its service since I first felt its threads against my soul. Having glimpsed the Force for the faceless monster it was, the thought of it having a hand in my fate suddenly scared me to paralysis. How was I supposed to trust my life to something so huge, so infinite that it couldn't even register my existence? How was I supposed to devote myself to the Force when I couldn't even _trust_ it anymore?

I was a Jedi without a lightsaber, without the Force, and without faith--not a Jedi at all, but a _heretic._ Realizing I had failed the Force hurt more deeply than leaving Master Jinn and the Temple ever could, and I carried that shame and fear with me out into the galaxy as I wandered, lost.

The will of the Force haunted me those days, like a heavy collar I couldn't get my fingers around. I was scared of it and I hated it and I couldn't understand it, but I felt it there, dragging me to ruin I couldn't yet see. It was one thing to walk to my death for a benevolent and caring Force, but another thing entirely to do so for a vast and terrible cosmic entity that wouldn't even notice me.

It was at Jedha and the Temple of the Kyber that finally I faced those fears. Dressed in a flimsy and ill-fitting set of acolyte's robes, I descended into the Whills alone and for the second--and hopefully last--time in my life, I touched the heart of the Force. Once again, it tried to unmake me.

I told it _no._

It flooded my flesh and blood and bones without thought and without mercy, so torrential in its power that I couldn't even breathe against it, but I fought. I fought to hold onto myself as it tried to rend me to my component parts, and I knew then that it wasn't the will of the Force that had me survive. It was _me._

It had been me all along. Bandomeer, leaving Master Jinn, killing in cold blood to end a war that had gone on too long--those had all been my choices, and the choices of those around me. Maybe the Force had been there, and certainly there was luck involved, but it had been my hands and my voice and my mind and I wouldn't take that away from myself. 

I woke in a cold and dusty medical wing a week later feeling purged and aching and _free._ No longer was I beholden to the will of the Force, because it had wanted me dead, and I had survived.

I breathed deeply and easily for the first time since losing my connection to the Force. My chest ached from the absence, but my soul was once again all mine. It would only ever be mine. If there was a grand and cosmic plan, perhaps I had my place in it, but it was too vast for me to understand and I had no need to try and interpret it for myself.

It wasn't a decision to make lightly, to deny the will of the Force. It meant accepting there was no _meaning_ to all I had done and lost--sometimes, suffering was just suffering. It meant giving up the last of my vows to the Jedi, it meant giving up my destiny, and it would set me on a lonely path into the cold galaxy for the rest of my life. But I had never been one to make decisions lightly, and then, as on that ship at Melida/Daan, I cut my ties and didn't look back.

My life was my own, and for better or for worse, I was the master of my own fate.

* * *

For the second time in as many days, I woke in the Halls of Healing. It was not the most pleasant awakening, since I smelled like bacta and was missing a hand. The wall chrono informed me it was 0803-- _not_ before dawn, for once. Maybe that was a sign this headache was almost over.

I sat up uncomfortably. I had never liked the Hall beds--the sheets had always felt too stiff and sterile to me, and that had apparently not improved in the last twenty years. It did not help that I ached all over.

There was a monitor on my left arm, but no IV line, which was encouraging. My back still hurt, but not as bad as it had been--someone had put bacta bandages on my burns, which were uncomfortable as always but not unbearable. It didn't seem like they'd dipped me in a tank or anything, though my right forearm still felt slimy. My neural port had new plating and connector locks, so someone had worked on it and the stump underneath. Nothing that involved actual surgery--it would hurt a lot more if they had. That was nice of them. Fixing the neural port when the connectors had melted would not typically fall under the purview of a Healer's work, but then again, Jedi Healers were probably the prime experts on lightsaber damage. They probably dealt with similar situations on a weekly basis.

Well, maybe not that often. Even among the Jedi, most people weren't dumb enough to try and catch a lightsaber with a metal hand.

I reached back to my hair and found that Skywalker had lopped off about eight inches of it. That was nothing that wouldn't grow back with time, but it still annoyed me.

I wasn't alone in the room. Rex of all people had kept vigil by me, and fallen asleep with his head resting on the edge of my bed. He wasn't wearing his armor. Instead, he was wearing a black bodysuit that was probably the standard under-armor wear for the Republic army, which was snug enough to not leave much to the imagination. I wondered if it was uncomfortable.

I put my hand on his head and shook him gently. His hair was short and coarse--probably a military regulation cut. "Hey, wake up."

My gentle prodding eventually woke Rex up, though I felt kind of bad about it--when he finally woke, he looked all sorts of exhausted.

"Detective?" he slurred.

"Good morning, Soldier," I said.

Once Rex was awake, it didn't take long for him to regain his senses and try to apologize for falling asleep on me. I didn't hold it against him--he clearly could have done with a few extra hours of sleep. I tried to tell him so, but he was determined to ignore me.

"Here," he said, handing me a pink tumbler of water. "You'll feel better if you drink some water."

I drank the water. It did make me feel better.

Once I was, to Rex's judgment, sufficiently hydrated, he gave me my things in a small bag--my Force-suppressing cuff, the broken halves of my baton, the remainder of Ahsoka's hair ribbon, and Jango's slugthrower, which had been thankfully unloaded. He also gave me my datapad, which he must have retrieved from my apartment at some point.

"My dear Soldier, you really did not need to do all this for me," I said as I took the datapad and set it on the side table. "You had as long a day as the rest of us."

Rex drank some water for himself and scowled. "Why can't you just say thanks?"

I sighed. Apparently, getting Rex to admit his exhaustion was a losing battle. I ought to have let him sleep, but there was nothing I could do about it now. "Thank you," I said. "You didn't have to go out of your way for me like this, but I appreciate it. You have gone above and beyond these past couple of days."

Rex's face colored slightly. "It's just my duty, Detective."

"Oh, come on now. You can't ask me to thank you and then brush it off. That isn't fair. But never mind. We won't get anywhere if we argue manners all day. How did I end up here?" I pulled Ahsoka's hair ribbon out. "And since I'm a little disarmed at the moment, could you please help tie my hair back?" 

Rex obliged, pulling my hair back into a loose tail and going over the events of last night. Apparently, he'd had to take care of a _lot_ of business after the Jedi arrived last night, including figuring out what to do with Skywalker.

"He'd start seizing if we tried to take him out of the factory, so the Healers had to do some on-site medicine," Rex said.

"Maul had mentioned something to that effect. I assume they were able to get Skywalker out safely?"

Rex nodded. "The contact you commed helped a lot--she recognized the implant model and knew how to deactivate it safely."

I blinked. " _I_ commed someone?"

"Um," Rex said. "Yeah. I'm not surprised you don't remember. The Jedi disrupted the shielding around the building, and you got a bit _weird_ after that. Like after you left the Temple yesterday weird."

That made sense--I wasn't wearing my cuff at that point, so if they disrupted the shielding, the Force would have taken me again. "I see. And what did I do?"

"You got us in contact with someone from the Outer Rim who did a lot of work relating to slave investigations. You went mute, so it was a bit weird, but the Jedi seemed to figure out what you were doing, and they got the General figured out." He rubbed the back of his neck. "The slave implant was...it uses a bunch of injected nanobots that get into the brain through the cerebrospinal fluid. They can manipulate neuroceptors, which is how it does its...thing. The bit that was embedded in his back was a transmitter and control module, so once it was shut down, the nanobots were basically deactivated. There's a bit more to the explanation but, um. It was kind of disgusting."

"Yes, I can imagine so." Even the abbreviated explanation was enough to turn the stomach. It had always upset me that neuromodulation technology only ever seemed to have applications in gross sentient rights violations--mechanically, I found them quite fascinating, though obviously I had the tact to not say so out loud. "So Skywalker's safe now?"

Rex nodded. "The nanobots will have to be filtered out over time and the Healers aren't sure if the General will suffer any kind of...withdrawal effects, but they're otherwise harmless now. The implant itself needs full surgery for removal and he was scheduled to go into the operating room a few hours ago. I don't know if he's out yet."

"I doubt it," I said. "Spinal surgeries are always high risk, and slave implants are especially difficult to remove by design." A safety feature, someone might call it. Sadism was probably more accurate.

Rex grimaced. I didn't blame him--even in the Jedi Temple, a high-risk surgery was a high-risk surgery. 

I cleared my throat. "Did anything else happen last night?"

Rex laced his fingers together in his lap and shrugged. "Well, you wouldn't let anyone touch the Sith."

"Don't call him that. His name is Maul," I cut in.

"What?"

"He's a person and his name is Maul. Names are important; the least you can do is use his."

"Um." Rex looked uncomfortable. "Right. Maul, then. Well, you wouldn't let anyone touch him until General Koon arrived and...did something? I think he might have been doing something with the Force to communicate with you."

I shrugged. I didn't have any better idea of what happened when the Force took me than anyone else--there was a reason I usually locked myself into my apartment when it happened. "Where is Maul's body now?" I asked.

"I'm getting to that," Rex said. "After General Koon did whatever he did, he commed someone so they could get proper equipment to transport the body. I think you reached some kind of understanding with him, because you let him take...Maul and bring him out to a stasis pod. They should still be holding the body--they ran some scans on it, but General Koon wouldn't let them do an autopsy."

I sighed in relief. Master Koon hadn't made me break my last promise to Maul. "Good."

"After that, you let the healers sedate you. You really scared us, you know. With all the blood."

"It wasn't mine."

"We know that _now,_ " Rex said. "And while I am very relieved that you were mostly intact, you still nearly gave me a heart attack. Incidentally, all that blood has probably ruined your clothes beyond saving. Sorry about that."

I sighed. It wasn't a surprise after how much blood I'd gotten on me last night, but at this rate I would run out of shirts. Maybe it really was time to give Bail's tailor my measurements. I'd have to bully Bail out of trying to dress me up fancy again, but it would be lighter on my wallet.

One thing was for sure; I was never taking a case from a Jedi again.

"How's Ahsoka?" I asked.

"Last I checked, she was sleeping," Rex said. "No major physical injuries, but the Mind Healers had to take a look at her--her confrontation with the General was a bit overwhelming. Psychic backlash or something. They expect a full recovery, but she needs a lot of rest."

I nodded. I didn't know how Ahsoka would fare after all of this--this was the kind of incident that could irreparably break a Padawan's trust in their Master. Maybe she would need a new Master, or she and Skywalker could work out their issues together. I hoped she would be okay. She deserved that much.

"And you, Soldier?" I asked. "How are your injuries?"

Rex glanced up. "Me? I'm fine. Like I said, the armor took most of the damage. I'm tired, that's all, and I got some sleep. Compared to everyone else, I got off light."

"You could definitely still use more sleep," I said.

"We'll to have to agree to disagree, Detective. I'm not injured and everything seems to have settled down. There will be time to sleep later."

There was time to sleep _now,_ but Rex seemed especially resistant to the idea while his General was in surgery. "All right," I replied. "I'm glad you're not hurt, Soldier. It could have gone much worse. I'm glad it didn't."

"It was about as successful as an op can get," Rex said. "We got the General back. Everyone survived."

I shook my head slowly, thinking of the desperate way Maul's golden eyes had reached up to find mine, looking so scared in the face of the end. "No. Not everyone."

* * *

Nearly dying really took it out of me, so Rex, that wonderful and beautiful man, retrieved two large trays of breakfast from the refectory that was in dire need of more spices but otherwise very decent.

We ate and talked about everything and nothing, him telling me stories of his brothers getting into trouble growing up, while I told him about some of my older cases. It was nice to pretend, for a time, that yesterday had not gone the way it had, and that there was not a war hanging over our heads when this was all over. For the moment, we were just friends exchanging stories over breakfast at any time in any place.

Eventually, Rex had to make some reports, leaving me alone in the medical room. I spent the time checking my messages on my datapad.

Most of it was standard. The colleague I'd requested information about Dathomir from had finally responded with a lengthy document I could read later when I felt less awful, and Bail had sent a very worried message sometime last night while I was busy talking to Maul. Apparently, Senator Amidala had finally returned to Coruscant and he was concerned--not unreasonably--when I didn't respond after a few hours. I replied, reassuring him that I had wrapped up my case and was only mildly injured for it, but that we would unfortunately have to postpone our dinner until I took care of some personal matters.

Between the additional legwork I'd have to do to investigate the Supreme Chancellor's actions over the last eleven years and taking Maul's body to Dathomir, I had a lot of work ahead of me--especially because I had no ship of my own. It was more than I was willing to think about this early in the morning.

Thankfully, I was saved from having to think about work by a Healer's arrival. It was a Mon Calamari woman with pink skin and silver eyes, about my age. That was...familiar.

I blinked. "Bant?"

She smiled. It looked good. _She_ looked good--after all these years, she was healthy and strong, with a presence in the Force like a swift river, constant and quietly powerful. She'd done well in my absence, not that I'd ever expect anything less. "Hey, Obi. It's been a long time."

Bant Eerin, my first friend and my sister in all the ways that mattered, was one of the only people in the galaxy allowed to call me that. "Since when have you been a Healer?" I asked.

She sat by my bed. "Since fifteen years ago. That's when I started, anyways," she said. "I got Knighted nine years back. I wish you could have been there, Obi."

"I would have, if you'd sent me an invitation," I said, only realizing then that I _meant_ it. Even after all this time I still loved Bant. I didn't want to be in the Temple, but I'd have returned to see her Knighted, if she wanted me to be there. "Congratulations. I always knew you would make it."

"Thank you," she said softly. "That means a lot." She clasped her hands in her lap, then glanced back up at me and cleared her throat. "Well, I'm your Healer today, so let's start, shall we?"

She took me through a summary of my injuries. It wasn't bad--most of it was superficial. The blaster-proof weave of my coat had absorbed the worst of the lightsaber slash to my back. Without it, I'd have assuredly died, but with it, I'd get off with only light scarring. The only real concern was the contact burns from my neural port, which needed follow-up and imaging to take care of any additional nerve or deep tissue damage. Otherwise, Bant explained I needed more bacta gel and rest, which I could manage on my own, and to wait until my new hand was finished, which would take another four hours or so. Good thing Master Che took those schematics, I supposed.

"We can fit you with a standard model until it's ready," Bant told me. "Since your hand already had limited articulation, the temporary prosthetic will be pretty similar. The lengths won't be the same, though."

"That's not necessary," I said. "I survived four years with one hand just fine. I can wait until my old one's repaired. It's less hassle than having to adjust to another prosthetic."

Bant frowned. "Okay. And while we're on the subject, do you...want a more advanced cybernetic hand? We can get you one with a full range of motion and near-biologic haptic feedback."

I shook my head. "I don't want another neural port surgery and I like the hand I've got. It's robust and I can repair it myself when I need to. A more advanced hand couldn't have stopped a lightsaber."

"Is _that_ what you did to it? _Obi!_ "

"It worked, didn't it?" I asked. "I don't know about you, but I much prefer having a few burns and a damaged hand than being cleaved in two."

Bant sighed that tired sigh Healers always got around me. I wondered if it was part of their training.

We continued discussing my health a while longer. Bant was a good Healer--professional and understanding and knowledgeable. She'd found a good place for herself, which made me happy. Bant had always been so talented and sure of herself growing up that _not_ finding her place in life was unthinkable. 

"I think that covers everything. What questions do you have?" Bant asked.

"When can I leave?"

"We'll see after we take follow-up scans on your arm. If everything is good, then you can go later today. You're cleared to walk around for now, as long as you stay in the Halls of Healing and you use a cane or crutch for support. Remember to come back so we can check your wounds again in a few hours."

I nodded. "Oh, wonderful. That's better than I expected."

Bant smiled. "You've done a pretty good job taking care of yourself, Obi."

"You're the first person to say so," I said. "Everyone else is scared I'll run off and get myself killed the second they turn their backs."

Bant flinched. "Obi..."

"Was that a poor choice of words? I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay, just..." Bant made that face she always did when she had a lot to say but didn't know the order to say it in. "This is real, isn't it? You're really here, after all this time. You're not a ghost or a hallucination or something."

"If I'm a ghost or a hallucination, then I am an exceptionally solid one." I smiled. "Yes, Bant. It's real. I'm here."

Bant's eyes got suspiciously shiny. "I...Obi, what _happened?_ You left us without saying anything! One day you were just gone, and Master Qui-Gon told us you left because you couldn't be a Jedi anymore. Because you lost your way. We never believed him. You always had the most faith of any of us--you'd never lose your way."

Her faith in me, even after all this time, was startling. "I'm sorry," I said. For what, I wasn't sure. Everything, probably. Even that didn't feel like enough. "I made my choice to leave the Order on the spot--there wasn't time or opportunity to say goodbye to all of you. I would have, if I could. When I left, I didn't think I would be gone for so long." I didn't know _what_ exactly I thought--I'd been so innocent then, without really understanding what it would mean to join a war, or what it would take to end it.

Bant paused. "We wanted to look for you, you know. Just so we could talk and you could _explain_ why you left, but we were only Padawans and...then you died. _I_ felt you die." She shuddered, and though she didn't cry--Mon Calamari didn't have that physiological response--I could feel her sorrow in torrents. "I thought--you weren't supposed to. You were never supposed to be the first of us to go."

"I didn't die." Not permanently, in any case. "I lost my connection to the Force. It broke all my bonds, and I can't even imagine how it felt on your end. I'm sorry about that--I didn't know that's what happened until Bruck told me about it yesterday. If I'd known, I'd have...I don't know. Sent a message, maybe. Not right away--I wasn't in a position where I could really communicate with the Temple, but it would be better to believe I'm dead for three years instead of twenty-two."

"What happened? Where were you?"

"Out in the galaxy," I said. "I fought a war when I left, lost my faith and the Force, and traveled around. Ten years ago, I came back to Coruscant to start a private investigation business and I've been here ever since."

Bant pressed her hands together. "You've been here that long? I should have...found you, or something."

"You didn't know," I said. "And you thought I'd died, so it's not like you'd expect me to be here, even if you looked me up on the HoloNet. That's all in the past. I'm here now."

"I missed you, Obi. I'm--" Her breath hitched and she flung her arms around me. "I'm really glad you're still alive. I'm glad you didn't die."

I hugged her back. Her robes were soft, and her presence in the Force was warm and full of love--she still cared so much, after all this time. "I missed you, Bant. I'm not sorry for leaving the Order, but I'm sorry I couldn't be there with you growing up. I'm sorry I wasn't as good of a Jedi as I was supposed to be."

Bant shook her head. "Don't mind any of that now. Are you happy out there?"

I had to think about it for a minute. Was I happy, as a private investigator? Even with all that I had to go through to get there, even with all of the rude clients and thugs who'd happily kick my face in, even with a blaster in my hand and hard decisions to make, did I mean to be here, now?

"I don't think there's any other life I'd rather live right now," I said.

Bant squeezed me. "That didn't answer my question."

"No, I guess not. I'm content, I think, and as happy as I could be, at this point in time." I closed my eyes. "It's lonely, out in the galaxy. Here in Coruscant. There's so many people but I've known so few of them. And I...I miss my family, Bant. I'm done with the Jedi life, but I grew up here. I miss you and all my other siblings. It's not the same without you."

"Then why didn't you come back, Obi?"

"Because the Temple isn't my home anymore. I lost my faith, Bant. I don't believe in the will of the Force--I haven't in over a decade, and I can never have it again. The Force...doesn't work for me the way it works for you. It's still part of my life, and I'll always be in service to it one way or another, but not as a Jedi. I don't belong here."

Bant broke the hug, pulling back and grasping my hand in hers. They weren't soft the way I'd remembered them--her scales had grown in hard over the years. "You _do_ belong here. It doesn't matter that you left the Order and the Code behind--you're still family. The Temple is always open to you, if you want it to be."

I shook my head. "Coruscant's my home now. I couldn't stand living anywhere else anymore." I sighed. "Honestly, I didn't think anyone _wanted_ me here. We all grew up when I wasn't looking. I've changed. You all have changed. You're all Knights now, and I'm a soldier and a heretic who lost his way. I thought when nobody ever came looking for me, that you all...forgot about me."

"No! No, Obi, we never forgot you. You were always so _good._ You were kind and you tried so hard, even when you were scared. You always believed in us so much that we wanted to be better. Even after you were gone, we wanted to be better." Bant's hands were shaking, or maybe mine was. "We loved you. We still do. It doesn't matter if you're not a Jedi, Obi. You're still so gentle and you still care so much. You're still _you._ "

"I'm still me. I'll always be me."

"And you'll always have a family in us," Bant said. "The Temple might not be your home anymore, but we're still here for you as long as you want it."

I felt something squeeze my heart. Not happiness so much as _relief,_ the desperate kind you get when you're drowning and senseless and fighting for oxygen and someone pulls you over the surface. It was heady and overwhelming, flooding me through and making my head spin. The next thing I knew, Bant had me in her arms again and I was sobbing into her shoulder.

There were a lot of reasons I shouldn't have. It was undignified, Bant didn't need to see me like this after so long, it made me ache even more than I already had--but at the moment, none of that mattered.

"I missed you," I said. I said it again and again into Bant's shoulder, and it didn't seem like enough to fill the years we'd spent apart, the years she'd thought I was dead, the years I'd thought everyone had abandoned me. There wasn't anything that was enough for that kind of lost time.

Bant, wonderful Bant, understood me anyways. She always had. She pressed me close and said, "I missed you, too, Obi. Welcome home."


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan follows up one last time on the matter of Anakin Skywalker.

There was time until I had to report to the Jedi about the whole kidnapping situation, and Bant had no other patients to see, so she stayed with me a while and we talked.

There was a lot to cover.

It wasn't an entirely comfortable conversation. After so much time apart, we didn't fit together the way we used to. Some pauses went on too long, and there were unspoken words on both sides we couldn't decipher. Between our experiences and the time, we'd fallen out of rhythm, and though I'd expected it, it kind of hurt.

We tried, though. Bant was as warm and genuine as any person could ever hope to be, and she forgave my missteps as much as I forgave hers, which helped to bridge the gap between us. Somehow, somewhere between the half-sentences and awkward silences, we said what needed to be said.

As I'd expected, all my friends had been Knighted, and Quinlan of all people had even reached Mastery not too long ago. At present, all of them were out of the system, contributing to the war effort. The news I was still alive hadn't reached any of them yet, though I couldn't imagine that news would be more important than whatever they were doing right now. I wasn't planning on moving house or anything.

"They'll want to see you, Obi. They'll never believe you grew a beard," Bant said.

Out of all the things I'd been through, that seemed to be the one thing she found hardest to believe. "Of course I grew a beard. Could you even imagine me at twenty-five trying to get clients to take me seriously without one? I looked like a youngling. If I shaved the beard, I'm pretty sure I still do."

Bant giggled and told me about some missions from years past. There wasn't much of a pattern to what stories she told, except to talk about what my friends had done. It was surreal to hear about them this way--proper Jedi Knights out in the galaxy, accomplishing all I thought I'd do when I was younger. It didn't feel real. It felt like hearing about strangers.

I wondered if she felt the same way about me.

* * *

When Skywalker's surgery finally finished and he was allowed visitors, Rex and I went to see him. I didn't really want to, but I felt obligated. I had seen him through his blackmailing and kidnapping, so it was only right that I saw him at the end of it all, too.

Skywalker looked a lot worse than I did--while most of Maul's efforts on him seemed to be mental rather than physical, he had still done quite a number on Skywalker's body, which now had a distinctly corpse-like appearance. The Healers had hooked him up to an IV line and he was pale and bloodless after surgery. He was still unconscious, and not the restful kind.

As long as my last two days had been, his had been longer.

"The surgery went well," Rex told me after discussing the matter with the Healers. "It'll take a few weeks to filter out all the nanobots, but since they're inactive, they're not dangerous. He won't have to stay in bed the whole time or anything."

"That assumes he'll be able to get out of bed in the first place," I said. "Depending on what Maul did, between the slave implant and direct manipulation of Skywalker's mind using the Dark Side, Skywalker might need extensive deprogramming. At minimum, this has been an extremely traumatizing experience for him. _Re-traumatizing,_ even. I wouldn't clear him for active duty for a long time, especially not on the front lines."

Rex frowned. "Then what will we do?"

"Don't ask me," I said, sitting down in one of the Hall chairs. "I'm only a detective. I don't manage anything related to the Republic Army or the Jedi."

Rex looked at me a long moment, then sighed and sat down beside me. "No, I guess not. I'm just used to you having all the answers."

I didn't really know what to say to that, so I let it drift.

"What will your squad, or battalion, do?" I asked. "Are you stationed on Coruscant now?"

Rex nodded. "The 501st has a few weeks of shore leave, though it's almost over now. Most of us stayed on the ship. I only came down because of all...this." He gestured to Skywalker. "We're supposed to be redeployed next week, but with what's happened to the General, I'm not so sure."

"Yes, I suppose the war goes on no matter what happens here," I said. "Do you think they'll assign you a new General?"

Rex grimaced. "I don't know. I don't see what else they can do until General Skywalker's better." He took a deep breath. "I don't...want a different General. General Skywalker has his flaws, but he genuinely cares about his men--about us. He treats us like real people, and he leads us well in battle. Maybe he takes risks he shouldn't sometimes, but he's accomplished miracles. A lot of people would have died if he wasn't there. Both my brothers and civilians."

"He's only twenty years old," I pointed out. "Maybe he's good on the field--perhaps his tactical skills are much better than his lack of common sense would indicate--but I can't imagine this war is good for him. Between his childhood, his tutelage with Master Jinn, and this war, I don't think he's ever had time to be a person."

"What do you mean?"

"Rex. I'm telling you this in confidence because I think you care about him, and you are, for better or for worse, one of the closest things to a friend that he has."

Rex nodded grimly.

"Skywalker was a slave," I said. "Most likely for the entire nine years before Master Jinn found him. Almost immediately afterward, he became Master Jinn's Padawan. For a youngling, those two things are not very different."

" _What?_ "

"To be clear, I don't think Master Jinn was a cruel Master or that being a Jedi is comparable to slavery at all. What I mean is that a Padawan's life is rigidly structured and firmly in the hands of a single authority figure, and Jedi are taught that their lives are not their own--they must devote their services to the galaxy and the Force. All well and good if that's something you're raised with and discuss and understand the ramifications of, as we do in the crèche. Not so much if you come from a background of oppression and lack of autonomy. Master Jinn, based on my experience, probably didn't think much about that. He's always been fuzzier on logistics than action." I tapped my cane on the floor. "Like I've said, the ideals and duties of the Jedi are chains we can choose to bear in the name of serving others, but chains that are thrust upon you are just chains, Soldier."

"Was...General Skywalker _forced_ to become a Jedi?" Rex asked.

"I don't know," I said. "You would have to talk to Skywalker or Master Jinn about that. I know Master Jinn thought Skywalker _had_ to be trained due to all his Chosen One business, and he must have pushed strongly for it. Maybe if Skywalker said he didn't want to become a Jedi, then Master Jinn would have backed down, but that's not what happened. No matter what happened, there's no way Skywalker fully understood what he agreed to when he became Master Jinn's Padawan. We spend years in the crèche to understand what a Jedi _is,_ and what sacrifices we must make to become one. Not every Initiate wants to become a Knight, you know, and there are many other paths for Force sensitives out there, in the Service Corps and beyond.

"Skywalker didn't have that upbringing or that time or that support--he moved directly from one Master to another, and while you and I understand the difference, I'm not sure a nine-year-old Skywalker did. Being a Jedi is a lot more than the _work._ It's not about using a lightsaber and the Force, and it's not enough to do things just because your Master or the Council tells you to. It's about learning faith and mindfulness and self-control and compassion and _discipline,_ and how do you teach discipline to a youngling who instinctively equates discipline with punishment?"

Rex looked down, grimacing. "It's not so easy to become a Jedi, is it?"

I shook my head. "The Jedi made me who I am now and I'm grateful for it--without their teachings, I would probably be dead or worse--but it's not for everyone. After all, I'm _not_ a Jedi and there's no way I could be one, even if I regained my connection to the Force. I can't devote myself to the Order and swear their vows in earnest. I don't know if Skywalker can, either. I don't think he's ever had a chance to understand _freedom,_ and he wants it so badly. Freedom to act and love and protect the things he holds dear, even at the cost of others. It's clouded his judgment."

"Is that so bad?" Rex asked. "Being free, loving, protecting?"

I sighed. This was one of the many things people raised outside the Temple had difficulty understanding, that things like freedom and love were not so simple things for the Jedi. "It can be, if your needs for freedom and love and protection are driven by fear," I said. "For the Jedi, freedom is spiritual. It means growing into yourself and finding your place in the Force. It means understanding and accepting your fears and virtues, and cultivating yourself as you choose to. You're still subject to your duty and you still have to put others before yourself, but it's your freedom to understand _why_ your work is necessary, and how you must best accomplish it. That's not the freedom Skywalker wants. He wants freedom to act and feel without worrying about judgment or consequences, and in searching out that kind of freedom, he's betrayed his vows. It's not bad to want those things, perish the thought, but it's not compatible with the Jedi philosophy. If he's set on that path, he needs to seriously reconsider his place in the Order. Unfortunately, that's a choice Skywalker needs to discuss and make on his own. With his level of self-awareness, I don't think he'll even realize it's an option unless someone talks to him."

"You mean me," Rex said, not entirely enthusiastic.

"Not necessarily. He'll have to see Mind Healers after he wakes up--hopefully they'll bring up the subject. But talking to Mind Healers isn't enough. He'll need to talk to people to work his thoughts out. Force knows he doesn't have the mindfulness to work it out on his own."

"Can't _you_ talk to him? You seem to have a lot to say on the subject, and you...know about leaving the Order. You've got experience."

I blew air out my nose. "It wouldn't help. Skywalker's combative. Every time I've brought up that he might be wrong, he's dug his heels in and turned it into an argument he has to win. Maybe I have been overly frank with him, or maybe he's only like that with me, but I don't know how to properly discuss things with him when he treats examining his assumptions and changing his opinions like a personal weakness. If he talks to someone, it'll be to someone like you or Senator Amidala or, Force forbid, the Chancellor. Since you work with him, you are the most accessible out of those options. He will probably want to speak to you."

"What do you want me to do, Detective?" Rex asked. "Convince him to quit the Jedi Order?"

"I don't command you, Soldier, and ultimately, it's not your responsibility to keep Skywalker's mental state afloat--it's his. You can _help._ You can support him, you can be there and listen to him, you can tell him what you think, but he has to make his own choices. If you want to help him or try to get him to leave the Order, that's your decision. I won't do you the disservice of forcing it upon you."

"So you'd give him up as a lost cause?"

I grimaced. "I don't think he's beyond help. I'm just not the one who can help him, and frankly, I don't want to. I'm not the right person to save someone from themselves and I've got enough of my own troubles to not want to take on Skywalker's, too." Maul had not been the first life lost in my failure, nor, in all possibility, would he be the last. "I'm _willing_ to talk to him, if he wanted to in good faith, but I won't push him on it. He doesn't trust me and I don't like him, and we will probably both be happier if we never see each other again."

"You saved his life," Rex said.

"Maybe." My interference had _helped,_ for sure, but I wouldn't go so far as to say I saved his _life._ The Jedi probably could have handled things well enough, given time. "It doesn't change the fact I don't like him. That's not a moral judgment. There doesn't need to be a reason and there doesn't need to be a reaction. We just part ways, and that's that."

"General Skywalker's a good man," Rex said. He believed in Skywalker with that faith everyone around him seemed to, and I respected that. Maybe Skywalker _was_ a good man, and somewhere between his reckless love and his lack of brains, he had a heart the size of a moon and a burning will like a sun. I could believe it. I just didn't care.

"He can be a good man away from me," I replied. "I certainly won't stop him."

Rex looked at me for a long moment, then turned his gaze down, rubbing the back of his head. I didn't need the Force to tell he was uneasy.

We sat in silence, listening to the beeping of Skywalker's heart monitor and the rasp of his breath. He lay there motionless, the Force revolving sluggishly around him--so deeply unconscious that he wasn't even dreaming.

We stayed there for a while, holding vigil over Skywalker's body. By the time the Healers escorted us out, he still hadn't so much as moved.

* * *

On our way back through the Halls, we were stopped by a human woman.

"Master Jedi," she said to me. "Do you know where Knight Skywalker's room is? The Healers directed me in here but I think I'm lost."

I glanced down at myself. I didn't really look like a Jedi, but to an outsider, I supposed even the Hall robes could be mistaken for a Jedi's typical wear. "I'm not a Jedi," I told her. "And Skywalker's not taking visitors at the moment. The Healers are with him now--it'll probably be another half hour before anyone can see him."

"Oh. My apologies," the woman said. She peered at me. "Pardon my forwardness, but if you're not a Jedi, why are you in the Halls of Healing?"

"For medical treatment," I said. "If I may ask, why are you looking for Knight Skywalker, Lady...?"

"Amidala," the woman said. "Knight Skywalker is a friend of mine."

I blinked at her. So _this_ was Senator Amidala. Her curled hair was half tied back and adorned with an intricate silver headdress and her long burgundy dress was plush and obviously tailored, with a matching embellished jacket. Her face was lightly made up, emphasizing her eyes and the contours of her cheeks. It was not what I'd expected from her snapshots. She was elegant and perfectly fitting of the upper class, yes, but it was hardly the dramatic appearance she'd had as a Senator or a Queen. Maybe it wasn't reasonable to expect Senators wore such ostentatious clothes all the time. Even Bail dressed down sometimes.

"My apologies, Senator Amidala. I didn't recognize you," I said. "I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi and this is Captain Rex."

Rex saluted. "Pleased to meet you, Senator Amidala."

"And you, Captain Rex. Mister Kenobi. How do you do?" She shook Rex's hand, then gestured to me.

I bowed my head. "How do you do? I'd offer to shake your hand, but..." I raised my right arm. "I'm a little indisposed at the moment."

Senator Amidala seemed a bit taken aback at my stump arm. "I'm sorry," she said. "I should have realized..."

"It's fine," I said. "Perhaps it's good luck that's had us meet like this. I've been meaning to ask you some questions about recent events."

Senator Amidala blinked. "Oh, you're the detective! Yes, Senator Organa commed me on our way back."

I nodded. "So, since we are here, would this be a good time to talk?"

"Is it urgent?" Senator Amidala asked. "I'm really concerned about what's happened to Knight Skywalker, and I don't think--"

"Senator Amidala," I cut in. "The matters I'd like to discuss concern your husband. I think you want to hear what I have to say. In private."

Her eyes got a little wide. "I don't have a husband," she said, while looking me straight in the eye. Skywalker could learn a thing or two from her.

"Of course not," I replied. "I have a room in the Halls right now. Since Skywalker isn't taking visitors for a little while, would you like to talk while you wait? I imagine it would be better than standing in the hallway."

Senator Amidala glanced over to Rex, then said, "Lead the way, Detective Kenobi."

* * *

Rex went off to check on Ahsoka while I took Senator Amidala to my assigned room. It was empty, as expected. Since I was allowed out and about, I didn't expect any Healers to check on me for at least another hour.

I pulled a chair around so we could sit and talk. Senator Amidala took her own seat, prim and proper with her hands in her lap. Textbook perfect etiquette. As a former queen, it was probably hard-earned habit.

"Your husband is fine," I told Senator Amidala. "He got out of surgery not too long ago, but the Healers say he should have a full recovery."

"Detective Kenobi, I'm sorry, but I don't have a husband," Senator Amidala said.

"Senator, there's no point in lying to me. I have a copy of your notarized marriage certificate from the Theed clerk's office on my datapad right now, signed by both Skywalker and yourself, along with copies of the bills from your wedding arrangements at the Third Light Temple, dated six standard days after the Battle of Geonosis. You are well beyond the point of plausible deniability."

Color drained from Senator Amidala's face, even as her expression didn't move. I could feel tension and some small amount of fear wafting off of her. _She_ knew her marriage was not appropriate. "How did you--"

"It's not that hard to find this kind of information. In most cases, you can just _ask._ If it's any consolation, I'm not planning to tell anyone. That's not what I'm here for," I said. "Before I explain what's happened to Skywalker, I have some questions." I leaned forward in my seat. "First: Have you had time to return to your apartment in 500 Republica yet?"

"Yes? I arrived in Coruscant last night."

"Okay. Second question: Have you noticed anything missing?"

"What? Why? Did something happen?" Senator Amidala asked.

"About three weeks ago, after you left on your diplomatic convoy, a man broke into your apartment to steal, at minimum, one of your hair pins and your stationery. He then used the Force to modify the memories of your guards so they would not remember him. Did he steal anything else?"

"I..." Senator Amidala's brow furrowed. "I wasn't able to find one of my personal datapads this morning. I thought I'd misplaced it."

A personal datapad. Chances were, _that_ had been the real target when Maul had broken into Senator Amidala's apartment.

"Did Skywalker send you his new address when he was Knighted?" I asked.

"Where are you going with this, Detective?" Senator Amidala asked.

I moved to clasp my hands, remembered halfway there that I only had one, and settled for crossing my arms instead. "Senator Amidala. It was a yes or no question. If someone were to have access to that datapad you lost, would they be able to find Skywalker's new address?"

Senator Amidala had to think about it for a second. "Yes," she said. "They'd have to slice my accounts, but I think so."

Well, slicing an account was pretty trivial when you had the physical media in hand, and Maul had proven himself technically proficient, so I could take that for granted. If he hadn't found Skywalker's address by stalking the man himself, he'd have gotten it from that datapad.

"What is all this about, Detective?" Senator Amidala asked. "Why was Ani in surgery? What happened?"

I leaned back in my seat. "Two days ago, Skywalker was kidnapped. We retrieved him last night."

Senator Amidala's eyes went wide. " _Kidnapped?_ On Coruscant?"

I nodded. "Skywalker was lured into a trap, drugged, and implanted with a neurally invasive device typically used on high value slaves. He was tortured over the course of about thirty hours, which would have continued had we not found him."

"That's horrible! Is he hurt? Will he be okay?"

"Like I said, he's safe now. We found him and he recently got surgery to remove the implant. The Healers say he'll fully recover."

Senator Amidala sighed in relief. "Good. That's good."

"That's not really what I'm here to discuss, though," I said. "I want to talk about the circumstances that led to Skywalker's kidnapping. Starting with: Did you know you were being blackmailed?"

Senator Amidala's brows drew together. "Blackmail? No, I didn't hear anything about that."

So Skywalker hadn't told Senator Amidala about the letters, just as I'd suspected. The first letter hadn't been _that_ long ago--maybe Skywalker hadn't had the chance to speak to Amidala while she was off-planet, or he thought he could take care of the situation before anything came of it. So much for that.

Briskly, I explained the letters and how they were meant to look like blackmail, invoking a bill that Maul knew Senator Amidala wouldn't back down on--especially considering her history of not bowing to outside pressure--and they'd been sent to Skywalker to insinuate knowledge of his secret relationship with the Senator.

"He used _your_ stationery to make the letters. I can't say why--most likely, he wanted to make sure Skywalker would open them, perhaps thinking they were from you, or it was simply convenient when he found it in your living room. I doubt he knew it was such exclusive Naboo stock--he probably would have chosen something else otherwise."

Senator Amidala had that discomfited look people got when I told them things I wasn't supposed to know. "Why did he send letters to Anakin blackmailing _me_? Why not threaten him directly?"

"Because if Skywalker got a letter directly threatening _him,_ he could have gone to the Temple or to law enforcement for help," I replied. "But if he went to them with a letter threatening _you,_ any official investigation would want to know why a blackmail letter against _you_ was sent to _him,_ and any further inquiry into that would immediately uncover the relationship between you two. I'm sure Skywalker was scared of the consequences that might befall him and you, if his marriage came to light. For good reason, too. By marrying you, Skywalker's broken his vows to the Order and has placed you both in a position with an incredible conflict of interest. There would be real political consequences in the Republic if a marriage between a Senator and a Jedi Knight became known."

Senator Amidala's lips thinned. "I'll thank you not to lecture me on political theory, Detective Kenobi. If the Jedi Code forbids love, then I don't think _I'm_ the one in the wrong, here."

"I'll thank _you_ not to lecture me on the Jedi Code, Senator. Especially since what you know likely comes from Skywalker, who is _not_ what I'd consider well-studied in the Temple's precepts," I said coldly. "The Jedi do not forbid _love,_ they forbid _attachment._ The problem is not that Skywalker loves you, it's that he heard you were kidnapped and instantly rushed in to act without thinking about any of the consequences. He didn't even tell anyone what he was doing--if I hadn't been involved, he would have been missing for days, if not weeks before the Jedi found him. He's incapable of _not_ putting the things he loves above everything else, including his duty and other people. _That_ is the problem. One day, if you are truly in danger, Skywalker might end up committing senseless murder for the possibility of saving you. Perhaps he has already done so."

Senator Amidala went still and pale.

That...was concerning. "You want to tell me something, Senator?"

"No," she said. "No, I just...Ani wouldn't do that. He wouldn't kill...people."

I gripped my cane, tapping it against my leg. I didn't like what she wasn't saying--whatever Skywalker had done, it was _bad._ "Senator, if you're trying to reassure me, you're doing a poor job of it."

"Ani wouldn't do what you're saying. He's _good_ ," Senator Amidala said more insistently. I didn't know who she was trying to convince--me or herself.

"So I keep hearing," I said. "I'll be frank. Your husband has a lot of issues. This recent experience has undoubtedly been extremely traumatizing for him, especially considering his background. He nearly killed Captain Rex, Padawan Tano, and me--the only reason he didn't is because we were able to subdue him. Maybe he wasn't entirely in his right mind, but even without outside manipulation, he _is_ angry. He _is_ violent. He _is_ willing to use lethal force to achieve his goals, and that is something that can't go on unexamined. Are we at least in agreement there?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

Well, that was a small victory. I took what I could get. I reached over and pulled the side table to me so I could pour some water from the room's pitcher. I offered a tumbler to Senator Amidala and she accepted it politely, but didn't drink any. She looked like she couldn't decide if she wanted to be offended or concerned and had settled somewhere around displeased.

I poured myself a tumbler of water and drank. "All these matters are things Skywalker needs to discuss with people he trusts, which is where the problem lies."

"How so, Detective?"

I set my tumbler back down on the side table. "Senator Amidala, are you aware that your husband has almost no support network?"

Senator Amidala looked up at me. "What? That isn't true. He has me and I know he's good friends with the Chancellor."

"Sure. You and the Chancellor. But according to Skywalker's Padawan, he has almost no friends in the Temple," I said.

"He has his Master, doesn't he?" Senator Amidala asked. "Anakin cares very much about Qui-Gon."

That was true, as much as I didn't like it. Skywalker and Master Jinn loved each other sure as breathing--I just wasn't sure if they _trusted_ each other. "That's good, but Master Jinn is Skywalker's Master, not an equal, and I suspect there are some long-standing communication difficulties between them. Even though Skywalker's been in the Temple for over ten years, he has no friends among his peers," I said. "That's not a good thing."

"He has me," Senator Amidala said.

"Yes, I realize that, and I'm glad you support him, but I cannot emphasize this enough: You are not sufficient. Ignoring that there are many parts of a Jedi's lifestyle you can't relate to because you weren't raised in the Temple, Skywalker's social circle should not be a social line segment. He needs friends. Preferably, some friends who are Force-sensitive and who _don't_ condone his--what did he do, slaughter a bunch of animals? Commit arson?"

Senator Amidala took a drink of her water and regarded me coolly. "I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't like what you're insinuating, Detective."

"I think you _do_ know what I'm talking about, and I'll do better than insinuate," I said. "If Skywalker wants to continue being a Jedi, he needs friends who actually understand the ways of the Jedi Order and don't promote or enable his violent tendencies. He needs to learn how to talk to people without taking every single disagreement as a personal attack. He needs to examine his feelings for you, and understand that as they are, they may cause more harm than good."

There was a flash of movement and suddenly my face was dripping wet. "How dare you," Senator Amidala said, deliberately putting her now-empty tumbler down. "Why did you bring me here, Detective? To insult Anakin and me? Because I won't stand for this disrespect. I love Anakin and he loves me, and I won't take it back. Maybe you're too cold to understand that."

I wiped my face with my sleeve. The thin fabric didn't help much. "My point," I said, "was to inform you that Skywalker needs help. Since you are one of the few people he trusts, you are one of the few people he will perhaps listen to." I got up and pulled a hand towel from beside the small sink to wipe my face, though that didn't do anything for the water soaking my front--Senator Amidala's aim had been dead on, if nothing else. "Frankly, Senator, I don't care about your love life. I don't like Skywalker and I don't think I like you, either. I don't think you should have gotten married, but annulling it now won't undo the damage, should your secret come out--which it very well may, considering how terrible your husband is at hiding it.

"That said, I'd like Skywalker to come out of this ordeal healthy and possibly even happy, but right now he is an unmitigated disaster, and your secret relationship isn't helping with that. If you're in love, fine. That's wonderful. I'm happy for you. But you and Skywalker need to have a serious discussion about your duties and your feelings for each other and your priorities regarding them. I don't know about you, Senator, but _I_ would not be comfortable knowing someone I loved might kill innocents in my name. I guarantee that if this continues, one day Skywalker _will_ kill in yours."

"That's your opinion, Detective." Senator Amidala stood. "Is that all you wanted to tell me? Because I believe this conversation is over."

"No, I had one more thing to say," I said. "Be wary of the Chancellor. He does not have Skywalker's or the Republic's best interests in mind. If you care for Skywalker at all, you'll pay close attention to what the Chancellor tries to tell him."

Senator Amidala's lips thinned. "I'll take it into consideration," she said. "Right now, I'd like to see my husband."

"Very well. He's just down the hall. Turn right, go eight doors down. He's on the left, in the room with the blue nameplate. The Healers might still be with him," I said. "He's not expected to wake for several hours, and when he does, he may still have...altered cognition. If the Healers tell you you shouldn't be present when he wakes, please listen to them. For your safety and his."

Senator Amidala nodded once and left. She did not thank me or smile as she went. I hadn't done much to earn either, I admit.

I could only hope she would take my words to heart, despite how much she disliked them and--in all likelihood--me. At the very least, she'd have them in mind if and when Skywalker made his next boneheaded decision. With luck, between her and Rex and the Mind Healers, they'd be able to get Skywalker on somewhat level ground before he hit critical mass.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I didn't want to think about Skywalker. Three days was too much Skywalker for any sensible person to endure. That the Jedi managed the last ten years was only a testament to their unshakable serenity, or perhaps their undiluted insanity. I hadn't decided which.

There was a knock at my door, and a Mirialan Padawan entered. "Detective Kenobi?" she asked.

I nodded. "That would be me."

"The High Council requests your presence. I'm supposed to escort you there immediately," the Padawan said.

I looked down at myself. My hair was nearly falling out and my robes were rumpled and overlarge, not to mention wet all down the front. I was not, in short, the image of dignity and authority. "Immediately?" I asked.

The Padawan nodded.

I sighed deeply. "Very well. Lead the way, dear Padawan."


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After three long days, Obi-Wan finally closes the case.

It was surreal, stepping into the Council Chamber as an adult and a civilian. During my time as a Jedi, I had only visited the Council Chamber a few times, and never on my own. No youngling really does, outside of some extraordinary situations. The most I'd seen of the Chamber were the times Master Jinn and I had reported back after another one of our disastrous missions, and even then I looked more at the floor than at the High Council.

Now, I walked into the Chamber with my head high and met the eyes of each Councilor one by one. I recognized some faces--Plo Koon, obviously, Mace Windu and Yoda. The others were new in the last twenty years, or not notable enough to have made an impression on me as a youngling. Not that surprising. Very few Jedi stayed on the Council permanently, so obviously the roster would have changed.

The Chamber was still as cold as I remembered--no doubt, all the Councilors got a lot of use of those several layers of Jedi robes. It made me miss my coat, and not just for vanity's sake. The Force swirled slowly around the Chamber, with a peculiar crispness to it as it passed over my skin, like the first breath of cool dry air. It felt...expansive, like the far-reaching view from the Chamber's windows, stretching out for miles and miles to the horizon, or staring up to the stars in the night sky. I felt very small, standing there in front of the High Council, but I stood straight and stepped forward. I bowed, less deeply than was strictly polite--partially because my back still hurt, and partially because I didn't want to be there. "Masters Jedi."

The High Council regarded me cautiously, and I could feel their gazes intensely like a physical pressure--I regretted not putting my cuff back on when I had the chance. I wondered how many of them were comparing me to how I'd been when I left. I wondered if they found me wanting, then decided I didn't care.

Grandmaster Yoda spoke first. "Obi-Wan Kenobi. A detour to the fountains you took, hmm?"

The words struck me with an incredible nostalgia--even after twenty years, Yoda's wry humor and voice hadn't changed a bit. I shrugged. "I had a philosophical discussion with a senator. She disagreed with some of my points. I would have changed clothes, but you _did_ want to see me immediately."

"Hmm. See this, we do," Yoda said. "See you too, we do. Passed much time has, since this Temple, you left. Well are you, Obi-Wan?"

"I am recovering from my encounter with Knight Skywalker, but otherwise I am well," I said.

Yoda nodded. "Changed, you have. Missed, you have been, but elsewhere, your path now lies. A Jedi you are no longer."

"That is correct."

"Still pleased we are, to see you alive and well. Surprised we are, but not unpleasant, this surprise is." He hummed to himself. "A Jedi you may not be, but report to us once more, we ask you. This favor, you will allow?"

It seemed kind of an unnecessary formality, since I was already in the Council Chamber, but I bowed my head. "I'll do what I can. How may I help you, Councilors?"

Master Windu took over. "Last night, you, with the help of Padawan Tano and Captain Rex of the 501st Battalion, found and retrieved Knight Skywalker, who had been kidnapped two days ago. When our search party arrived at the scene, they found Knight Skywalker unconscious and you holding the body of Knight Skywalker's captor, a Sith Apprentice." He held up a hand before I could interrupt. "That's not an accusation. We'd like you to please explain what happened, and how you found the Sith Apprentice."

That was about what I expected.

"Maul wasn't a Sith," I said.

Master Windu sighed. "Detective, I'm not sure if you're aware, but eleven years ago, Master Jinn encountered and defeated a Sith Apprentice during a mission to Naboo. The body we recovered yesterday was, without doubt, the same Sith."

"I'm well aware of Maul's past, Master Windu. He _had_ been a Sith Apprentice, but after he failed to kill Master Jinn at Naboo, his Master cast him out. When he died, he wasn't a Sith. He's a person, and he has a name. I'd appreciate if you'd show some respect and use it."

I felt turbulence in the Force between the Councilors, the Jedi equivalent of indignant muttering. Master Windu leaned forwards. "You believe that the Sith Apprentice...Maul gave up being a Sith?"

"I don't know," I said. "I don't know if being a Sith is something you can rescind your vows to. I _do_ know that Maul didn't choose the Dark Side--his Master forced him into it at a very young age and hurt him horribly his entire life. At the end, he wasn't a Sith and he didn't have that hatred anymore--he was just scared and lonely."

Master Windu's brows came together. "The Sith...let go of his hatred?"

"Maul survived Naboo by feeding the Dark Side with sheer hatred. If he was still holding onto that when I shot him, he would undoubtedly still be alive now." I had mixed feelings about that, knowing Maul had taken my words to heart only when it was too late to save him. "I'm not asking you to like him or even forgive him. But at least use his name."

Master Windu looked at me with an unreadable expression, then nodded once. "Very well. Tell us about Maul and Knight Skywalker's kidnapping, then."

"As you please." I straightened and began, "After Maul lost to Master Jinn, he wanted revenge. Not just for defeating and nearly killing him, but because that failure caused him to lose his place as a Sith Apprentice, the only thing he'd been raised to know. I don't know how exactly he recovered from getting stabbed through the heart or how long he spent planning this, but when I first met him, it was clear that revenge--primarily against Master Jinn and secondarily against his own Sith Master--was his reason for living."

"The _first_ time you met him?" one of the other Councilors cut in, a Cerean man I vaguely recognized but whose name I couldn't recall.

I nodded. "I interacted with Maul twice: the first time three days ago, and then last night when I confronted him. I'll get there. If you'll let me continue?"

The Cerean gestured for me to go on.

"Thank you. As I was saying, Maul wanted revenge. He wanted to, in his words, 'destroy his life and his plans and make sure he knew who brought about his downfall'. For Maul, it wasn't enough to kill Master Jinn--he wanted to destroy him." I took a deep breath. "As everyone here likely knows, Master Jinn's major weakness is his Padawans. First Xanatos' betrayal, then my departure and alleged death--both incidents were more devastating to Master Jinn than any injury could be. Naturally, Maul targeted Skywalker."

Master Windu cleared his throat. "If Maul has wanted revenge for such a long time like you claim, why would he wait eleven years to kidnap Knight Skywalker?"

"Probably because Skywalker only got Knighted recently," I said. "Before then, Skywalker was only a Padawan, and subject to all the supervision from Master Jinn and others in the Temple as all Padawans are. It's much more difficult to lure a Padawan out of the Temple without anyone noticing, especially when there's an active and long-standing training bond between him and his Master."

"Surely, kidnapping Skywalker and hurting him would only make Master Jinn more determined to defeat him," Master Windu said.

"Maybe so, if that were Maul's plan, but it wasn't. Maul wanted to push Skywalker to the Dark Side, then force _him_ to kill Master Jinn. I suppose Maul believed that would be a sufficiently destructive end--for Master Jinn to first see his last Padawan Fall, and then to die by his saber. I certainly don't believe Master Jinn would be willing to cut Skywalker down."

Uneasiness settled in the Force between the Councilors. Skywalker Falling to the Dark Side appealed to them about as much as it did to me, and it seemed from their lack of retort that they did not see it for the impossibility that Master Jinn did.

I continued. "Additionally, at some point in the past few months, Maul uncovered compromising information about Skywalker and took the opportunity to blackmail him. The nature of the blackmail made it so Skywalker was unwilling to go to official resources for help, such as law enforcement or the Jedi Temple, and so instead he came to me, a private investigator."

"Do you know what this blackmail was?" Master Windu asked.

"I do not," I said. "That's something you'll have to talk to Skywalker about on your own."

Master Windu's eyes narrowed. "You're saying you've learned enough over the course of your investigation to know Maul's movements and motivations, but you don't have _any_ idea how Knight Skywalker was blackmailed."

"That is what I'm saying." My voice was perfectly bland. "I'm glad we're on the same page, dear Councilor."

Master Windu eyed me suspiciously, but didn't call me out on my blatant lie. Maybe he realized I had a reason for it, or he genuinely couldn't tell. He pursed his lips, then said, "Very well. Continue, please."

I nodded. "During my investigation, I inadvertently drew Maul's attention. He confronted me soon after intending to find out what I knew and kill me, but chose not to."

"Changed his mind, the Sith did?" Yoda asked.

"His name is _Maul,_ " I corrected.

"Hmm, yes. Maul. Convinced him, you did, to remain peaceful? Curious to know, I am, how accomplished this, you did."

"I talked to him," I said. "I got him a meal because he looked hungry and then we took a walk in the city. Some thugs, wanting revenge on Maul, attacked us and managed to injure him. I took him to my apartment to help him recover. It's probably more kindness than he'd ever been shown in his life, and he decided to not murder me in my sleep."

"You gave asylum to a Sith Apprentice? One who wanted to kill you?" Master Windu asked.

"I didn't _know_ he was a Sith Apprentice. I might have had some suspicions about his past, but _Sith_ never crossed my mind, because they're all supposed to be _dead_ ," I said. "I saw a man who was angry and lonely and hurting who needed help. What was I supposed to do, leave him to bleed out on the sidewalk?"

Master Windu closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them again and said, "Very well, you've made your point. Go on."

"The next morning, which would have been two days ago, Skywalker commed me around 0530, and while I'm here, when Skywalker's done seeing the Mind Healers, someone really needs to tell him about comm etiquette because I did _not_ appreciate being woken up before dawn two days in a row."

"Your concerns have been noted. What did he comm for?"

"He told me he had received another letter and wanted to hear what I'd learned by that point. Maul overheard the end of this conversation, and it was then that I informed him of my profession, and that Skywalker was my client."

"Detective Kenobi..."

"Might some of Skywalker's troubles have been lightened if I hadn't, Master Windu? In hindsight, yes, possibly. There was no way for me to have known that." I tapped my cane on the ground. "Since it was early and I was tired, I went back to sleep, while Maul ate breakfast and left. He used the time I was sleeping to contact Skywalker--maybe he wanted to grab Skywalker before I could derail his plans, or he was always planning to make his move then. He commed Skywalker over an encrypted frequency and coerced him into making a rendezvous at a specific abandoned apartment building in the undercity. Skywalker left the Temple to do so, and on the way Maul met Skywalker in person and told him he was working for _me._ Skywalker, believing him, let Maul lead him to the given address. Between that trust and the Force suppression in the building, Maul caught Skywalker by surprise, drugged or otherwise subdued him, then used a medical droid already in the building to surgically insert a high-power slave implant. I'm sure his motivations were twofold: first to break Skywalker more easily through neurological manipulation, and second to bring up Skywalker's past trauma as a slave on Tatooine."

"How in the _Force_ did you learn about Knight Skywalker's past?" Master Windu asked.

"Skywalker said a couple of things, and I extrapolated the rest from context. That's not what we're here to talk about," I said. "After Maul captured Skywalker, he took him to the abandoned droid factory, then did something with the implant to make it impossible for Skywalker to leave. Around this time, he probably started to torture and condition Skywalker, both with the implant and with the Dark Side to coerce him into Falling and break him to compliance. How well he succeeded is something you'll have to discuss with the Healers."

Master Windu grimaced. The Force in the Council Chamber grew uneasy.

"That day, Maul also broke into the Temple. He accessed an internal data terminal to look up my information, and possibly some other things, then attempted--and failed--to break into the Archive vaults to retrieve his lightstaff, which Master Jinn brought back to the Temple eleven years ago after their battle."

"That's _classified information._ How do you _know_ about that?"

"Maul told me," I said. "Moving on, yesterday I got arrested, as you all know. Maul continued working on Skywalker during this time. After you finally released me from custody, I along with Padawan Tano and Captain Rex tracked down where Maul was keeping Skywalker, then went to confront them. We found Skywalker alone in the reactor chamber, who wasn't exactly in his right mind. He, believing I had betrayed him to the Sith and allowed him to get captured, became hostile and attacked us with his lightsaber. We subdued him before he killed us."

One of the other Councilors spoke up, a Nautolan man. "You defeated Knight Skywalker?"

" _Yes,_ " I said. "I use an electric baton--it's lightsaber-resistant."

"Knight Skywalker's one of the strongest duelists in the Order right now," the Nautolan pressed.

"And _I_ could beat Jango Fett one out of three times back when we lived together. I know how to fight, and I was lucky." If Ahsoka hadn't been there to keep me from getting choked, or I hadn't had weapons to fight a lightsaber, or I hadn't worn an energy-dispersant coat, then I would have been in a lot of trouble. Not hopeless--I _had_ learned from Jango, and he was the one who'd killed six Jedi with his bare hands. I could never manage that much, but one-on-one I could hold my own, even against the so-called Chosen One. "Can we take my competence as read and move on?"

"You lived with _Jango Fett?_ "

I resisted the urge to do something undignified and continued, " _Anyways,_ the confrontation with Skywalker left Padawan Tano and Skywalker unconscious and myself injured, so I had Captain Rex take Padawan Tano and Skywalker somewhere safe while I talked to Maul to give them time to escape. Maul tried to convince me to become his Sith Apprentice, and I tried to convince him to give up his revenge. I refused, he refused, then he tried to cut me down. I shot him dead. Everything else, you already know."

Tense silence fell in the wake of my speech. I could feel something pass in the Force between the members of the Council as they communicated silently, which wasn't very polite when I was standing right there. My neural port itched again, and I resisted the urge to squeeze it.

After an interminable pause, Master Windu spoke. "That is...quite a story, Detective."

"It's the truth as I understand it," I said. "I'd be happy to elaborate on any points you find confusing."

"We'd like to know _how_ you found Maul. Master Koon and his search party weren't able to find him, even with their abilities in the Force. You, however, found Maul in less than two days, largely on your own. Can you explain your methods?"

I ran my tongue against my lower lip. This was the part that could get me into a lot of trouble down the line. "Are these meetings confidential?"

"Yes," Master Windu said. "Why do you ask?"

"I mean specifically, are you required to report the contents of these meetings to the Supreme Chancellor?"

"We choose what to disclose to the Supreme Chancellor. Rest assured, Detective, we're not planning to arrest you again. In light of your help, we're willing to forgive some dubious actions, so long as no one was hurt."

"I'm not worried because I did anything illegal," I said. "I'm worried because I don't want the Supreme Chancellor to know about this, and I _especially_ don't want him to know who I am. I mean this as a point of personal safety."

Master Windu raised a brow. "Then we will do our best to keep this information from reaching him." He seemed serious about it, but Master Windu always seemed serious. "How did you find Maul?"

"I traced the history of the building where Skywalker was abducted and of the medical droid that operated on him. Both were associated with Palpatine. It was obvious that both had been prepared way ahead of time, so I thought wherever Skywalker was, it was similarly in a location with Force suppression and associated with Palpatine. We ran a search through the Coruscant real estate records to find what could fit that criteria. Luckily, I was right."

"How does the Supreme Chancellor have anything to do with this?" Master Windu asked. "Why would Maul try to frame him?"

"Maul _wasn't_ trying to frame the Supreme Chancellor. He was just using the resources on Coruscant that he was aware of--because they'd been used on him, back when he was a Sith Apprentice."

Master Windu's eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to say?"

"Chancellor Palpatine is Maul's Sith Master."

I felt a ripple through the Force and braced myself for the swell. It didn't come. Apparently High Council members were elected in part by their ability to take shocking news in stride, though their discontent was clear enough.

"A serious accusation, this is," Yoda said. "Sure you are, that Sith the Chancellor is?"

"As sure as I ever am," I said. "Even if Maul hadn't practically admitted it outright, there's virtually no way for him to have stumbled across these locations by accident--one Force-blocking abandoned building managed by Palpatine, perhaps, but not _two._ Given Coruscant's metropolitan hell, the probability of finding them independently would be astronomically low."

"Plausible you think, that Sith the Chancellor is?"

"It's very plausible. Eleven years ago, when the Sith first appeared in the form of Maul, Naboo called for a vote of no-confidence against then-Chancellor Valorum and Palpatine was voted in to replace him. The Trade Federation droids that attacked Naboo have a striking resemblance to the current Separatist droids, which we _know_ are led by a Sith. I do not think these events are coincidental.

"Furthermore, according to Maul, his Sith Master has been grooming Skywalker for the past ten years to become his next Sith Apprentice. The only person in such a position to do so with Skywalker is the Chancellor."

"You'd trust the word of a Sith Apprentice?" Master Windu asked.

"I would. Maul was a lot of things, but his desire for revenge was very real. He didn't have to make up reasons to want to ruin his Master's plans. He told me it was quite easy to subvert Skywalker after how much work his Master's already done with him--your Mind Healers will probably find some influence on him far beyond the past few days. Ten years is a long time to cultivate hatred and resentment, especially when Skywalker's so socially isolated. He doesn't trust anyone nearly as much as he does the Chancellor, except perhaps Master Jinn or Senator Amidala, and _their_ names aren't attached to the long string of embezzlements and corruptions that led to Maul being able to do what he did."

"That's all circumstantial," Master Windu said. "The only thing you can prove with that is that the Chancellor is corrupt, as many politicians are."

I rolled my eyes. "My _apologies,_ Master Windu. When you called me here to speak with all of you, I didn't realize you wanted me to prepare a twelve-slide holo presentation on why the Chancellor is most likely the Sith Master you have been hunting for over ten years."

Master Windu frowned. "Detective Kenobi, contain your insolence."

I tapped my cane on the ground. "I don't think I will. I don't want to be here, my dear Councilor, and I'm not obligated to be. I am telling you the facts as I understand them, and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't question my competence. No, I do not have court-admissible proof that the Chancellor is Sith. You understand I was busy trying to find _Skywalker_."

"Your competence is not in question," Master Windu said. "But your conclusions are difficult to believe. All of us in this room have interacted with the Chancellor and have never felt so much as Force-sensitivity from him, much less the kind of Darkness that would be expected from a Sith Lord."

"Yeah?" I said. " _I'm_ still Force-sensitive, but I'm sure none of you in this room could say so since I lost my connection to the Force."

"You _what?_ " I heard someone mutter.

I continued, "The Jedi draw their power from connection to others and the Force and life, while Sith draw their power from isolation. Even as I am, _I_ am capable of reaching for the Dark Side--it's not a stretch to assume a Sith could do at least that much. Or is it really that hard to believe they would have abilities in the Force that are alien to the Jedi?"

This didn't comfort the High Council at all, if the way the Force flowed between them was any indication.

"We _do_ know that those who use the Dark Side have ways of concealing themselves," Master Koon said. "And the Force in Coruscant has become increasingly Dark in recent years. It's possible we would not sense a Sith Master so easily, even if they were in front of us."

"But the _Supreme Chancellor_?" a Tholothian woman asked. "Could it be possible?"

"It's absurd, is what it is," the Cerean replied. "Can we even trust Kenobi? He admits he sympathizes with the Sith Apprentice. Accusing the Supreme Chancellor of being a Sith Master would easily sow distrust and instability in the Republic. In the middle of a war, no less."

I wasn't sure I enjoyed these out-loud aspersions on my abilities and character more than the nonverbal version. I cleared my throat loudly. "Maul was my friend. I'll say that easily enough," I said. "But if you'll recall, I also _killed_ him when he threatened innocent lives and my attempts to resolve matters peacefully didn't work. It should be pretty clear what side I'm on."

"How can we trust you are not Dark?" the Cerean challenged. "You have just admitted you can use it."

"Yeah? Everyone in this room is capable of using the Dark Side," I said. "The thing that stops me from doing so is the same one that stops you, presumably."

"And what would that be?"

"I _don't want to._ Can we please move on? I thought you all got your accusations against me taken care of _yesterday._ "

Master Koon nodded. "Eleven years ago, we dismissed the possibility of the Sith returning, and we were wrong then. We can't dismiss the possibility Detective Kenobi presents to us now--the evidence may be circumstantial, but we can't discount it. If Detective Kenobi speaks truly, we are in grave danger. It's the least we can do to further investigate these claims."

"Where would we even start?" the Nautolan said. "Palpatine's gotten this far without suspicion--he's clearly good at covering his tracks."

I sighed. I didn't want to sit through this, and standing for so long was making my body ache. "Look, you can debate this later without me. The Sith and the Jedi are way out of my purview. I just figured you'd want to know. Maul indicated his Sith Master had some destructive plans regarding the fate of the Republic and the Jedi Order, so you might want to do something about it. I'd suggest talking to Senator Organa--he's good at gathering support and he's got some dirt on Palpatine from the legal side." Or he would in a few hours once I sent it to him.

"Appreciated, your insight is," Yoda said. "Meditate on this, we shall. If true, it is, then prevented, great suffering may be."

I bowed my head. "In that case, may I be dismissed? I realize I don't _look_ injured, but I _did_ take a lightsaber to the back yesterday and I would prefer to not be standing for longer than necessary right now. If I collapse, Master Che will be _very_ unhappy with everyone in this room, and I'd like to avoid that."

Master Windu made a sour face at me. I didn't think he appreciated my frankness.

"A chair, we can bring you," Yoda said. "One more matter, discuss we would."

I suppressed the urge to sigh deeply. "And what would that be, Grandmaster Yoda?"

"Twenty-two years ago, the Temple you left. On Melida/Daan, you stayed."

"That's correct," I said. "I told Master Jinn that we should assist the Young to end the war on Melida/Daan, and he disagreed. He told me if I wanted to stay, I could, but I would have to give him my lightsaber. Well, here I am now. No lightsaber."

Master Windu looked pained. "Qui-Gon...should not have done that."

"Believe me, dear, I am well aware of that. If things only ever happened as they should, then we would all be much happier, but that's not how the galaxy works and I'm worse off for it." I tapped the handle of my cane. "What does Melida/Daan have to do with any of this?"

"Wish to hear we do, on Melida/Daan, what happened to you," Yoda said. "How spent, your time since the Temple you left?"

This time, I _did_ sigh. I should have expected that as well. Deciding I was well past the point of dignity and politeness, I sat down cross-legged on the Council Chamber floor. I heard some indignant noises, but ignored them. If they wanted me to explain my life story, they could deal with some mild disrespect.

"Why do you want to know?" I asked. "I'm not a Jedi anymore. My life is no longer your business."

Master Windu fixed me with a steady look. "You left to end a war. We would appreciate hearing from you what happened."

I gestured dismissively. "Everything politically relevant about Melida/Daan has been on public record for over a decade. At least some of you must have heard the war finally ended due to the rapid assassinations of three rising faction leaders, which allowed the Young to finally gain enough leverage to force peace talks. Did you want to hear I was the assassin?" I looked Master Windu in the eyes. "I was. I was seventeen and desperate after over three years of non-stop war, so I killed three men in their sleep and went back on all my vows to the Jedi Order in the process. After the war ended, my crimes became known to the public and I was banished from the planet. But this is all public information. I'm sure most of you already know this--there's been plenty of time to look it up since finding out I was alive. What do you _really_ want to hear about my life? And _why?_ Is it just so you can condemn me properly?"

"Obi-Wan, we don't want to condemn you. We don't _approve_ of your actions, but those are in the past and we believe you have changed your behavior since then. That's not what this is about," Master Windu said. "We believed you were dead for twenty-one years. Your death was a terrible tragedy and a great number of Jedi attended your funeral pyre, many of the members of this Council included. You were well-liked and deeply missed, even now. We want to know what happened to _you._ "

I couldn't feel any lie in the Force, but I had a hard time believing _that_ many people cared when I left. My friends, sure, but Knights and Masters? They didn't even know I existed. "What is this, morbid curiosity? Guilt?" I asked. "I've already told Master Che this, but I don't need apologies or help. I'm a civilian now. I'm not your responsibility."

Master Yoda closed his eyes and let out a long breath. "Apologies and assistance, need them you do not, but offer them we do. Mistakes, this Council has made. Mistakes, _I_ have made, when Initiate you were. Willed by the Force, your apprenticeship to Qui-Gon was. Enforced this, I did, and prevented your selection by another Master. Ready, Qui-Gon was not, and hurt deeply, you have been."

I stared at Yoda, feeling something coil in my heart, too tightly knotted to discern exactly what it was. He had no reason to lie to me, but he wasn't making a whole lot of sense, either. Nobody had wanted to take me on as a Padawan when I was younger--I'd been firmly rebuffed more times than I cared to count, and Master Jinn only gave in after I proved I was willing to die for him. Even with that, he let me go easily enough. Clearly, I wasn't meant to be a Jedi.

Yoda had cared for me when I was in the crèche and I had fond memories of him and his guidance when I struggled with visions and interacting with other Initiates. He had assured me many times that I would become a Knight one day, even when I felt hopeless after so many failures and rejections. Was it possible Yoda had been responsible for that pain? That maybe without him, I would have had another Master, one who loved me the way Master Jinn never had, who would have cared about me not just for my willingness to die but for my character and eagerness to learn? Probably. I didn't think he'd bring me here and tell me something that hurtful if it wasn't true. I didn't see the point of it.

"What am I supposed to do with this information?" I asked. "I already left the Temple. Maybe you made your choices, but so did Master Jinn. So did I. Nothing you say now will change anything."

Yoda's ears drooped, and he looked as ashamed as I'd ever seen him. "Hardships, you have experienced. Change this, we may not, but sorry, I am. Sorry we are for abandoning you, when needed us you did."

"If you want to apologize, you're twenty years too late," I said. "You can say them if it'll make you feel better, but I don't need them. I haven't been waiting all this time to hear everyone cared all along."

"We _do_ care about you," Master Windu said gently. "You had the right to leave the Order like all Jedi do, but the circumstances surrounding your departure were not just, and you grew up more alone than any of us could ever know. There's really no way we can make up for our mistakes regarding your Padawanship or how it ended, but we would like to try. Will you please tell us what happened?"

I took a deep breath. As much as I respected the High Council, I didn't owe my life story to them. If they wanted to hear it, then that was fine. It didn't mean anything to me. If they wanted to self-flagellate over the hardships in my life they weren't around for, then that was their problem and not mine.

"All right," I said. "Since you asked so nicely, I'll give you the brief version."

"Thank you, Obi-Wan," Master Windu said. "We know this may be a difficult subject."

"Don't patronize me, dear. I've already agreed to talk. I don't need your platitudes," I said.

I made myself comfortable on the floor, gathered my thoughts, and spoke.

It was a long time before I stopped.

* * *

"Detective Kenobi?"

I glanced up from my datapad to see Master Koon standing in the doorway of my medical room. After my report to the Council, I had returned to the Halls of Healing to get my new hand reattached, as well as another check-up on my injuries. With those matters and my report to the Council completed, I was pretty much free to leave the Temple, but I had wanted to take care of a few matters first.

"Master Koon. Do you need something?" I asked.

"I have a delivery for you. May I come in?"

I gestured for him to do so. "What did you want to give me?"

Master Koon held out a small bundle. "These are the clothes you requisitioned. I hope they are to your tastes."

I nodded and took the bundle. I had requested to have my clothes laundered or, if they were beyond saving, replaced. Apparently, the quartermaster thought most of my things were in the latter category. "I'll wear most things if they fit, and some things that don't. Anything would be better than the Hall robes," I said, looking through them. It was standard fare: a soft tan undershirt, a crisp red draped tunic, sturdy brown trousers, and a charcoal-gray hooded cloak, all with that recently fabricated smell--the benefit of having access to tailoring technology meant for an entire Jedi Temple, I supposed. It was Jedi in style, all solid colors and loose sleeves without embellishments and a little lackluster for it, but not so overtly Jedi that someone might mistake me for one out in public. I held up the cloak. "Did my coat not make it?"

Master Koon shook his head. "The lightsaber strike irreparably damaged the thermal mesh. You can still wear it, of course, and we are currently mending it, but it will never block a blaster bolt again. We would have provided a replacement, but unfortunately, blaster-proof clothes are a little beyond us, in materials and in tailoring."

That was reasonable, if inconvenient. As it had been explained to me, the blaster-proof part of blaster-proof weave came from metamaterial properties that only worked if the whole fabric was intact and in the appropriate geometry to redirect and disperse energy from a bolt. Making clothes out of it was a little less tailoring and a little more sculpture, with enough differential equations to make my head hurt. Something like my coat needed multiple specialists the Temple wouldn't have. Not when a single lightsaber strike instantly rendered all that work and money useless.

I quietly mourned the loss of my coat. I'd had it for over seven years and it had saved my life at least fifteen times. That was a good run. I had to admit, blocking one final lethal lightsaber slash was an impressive way to go out.

"Well, I'm not planning to get shot any time soon," I said, pulling the cloak on. It was loose and felt a lot like wearing a blanket, which wasn't very dignified, but it _was_ pleasantly heavy and warm. I pulled it tight around my chest and decided I liked it.

This seemed to amuse Master Koon, though his body language remained serene as ever. "I take it you approve?"

"Mm, it's not bad," I said, running my fingers over the fabric. It was one of the softest things I'd ever felt, and I'd worn _Bail's_ shirts before. "But I don't think you just came here to deliver a set of clothes. How can I help you, Master Koon?"

"I wanted to discuss compensation for your work," Master Koon said. "I understand your usual rates are five hundred credits a day?"

"Plus expenses. That's correct," I said.

Master Koon nodded. "We have set aside four thousand credits as payment for your services and assistance in recovering Knight Skywalker. Would this be sufficient?"

I took a second to parse that. Somehow, between going off to find Skywalker last night and everything I'd learned from my conversation with Maul and all the mess of this morning, the thought of payment never even crossed my mind. Just the idea of it now made me feel slimy. "I don't want it."

"I...beg your pardon?"

"I don't want it. Skywalker already paid me a thousand credit retainer when he hired me to investigate his blackmail. I _spent_ two days investigating his blackmail. I'm not charging him extra for getting kidnapped. That would be ridiculous."

"By your accounts, you helped investigate the kidnapping for over a day. Surely you deserve some compensation for that?"

"That was on my own time, and I was detained in the Temple for most of that," I said. "Ahsoka and Rex did most of the legwork--if you want to reward someone you can talk to them."

"Detective Kenobi. I think we both know that without your involvement, it would have taken us much longer to find Knight Skywalker, if at all. Maybe Maul's plan would have even succeeded, leading to Knight Skywalker's Fall to the Dark Side and Master Jinn's death."

"That's possible," I said.

"We would like to compensate you fairly for preventing that eventuality, or at least for saving Knight Skywalker much more suffering than he would have endured otherwise."

"And you have. The Healers here have graciously re-plated my neural port and provided me with a replacement hand, including the phrik plating, which I _know_ is hard to get, even with the Temple's resources. The usual costs for that kind of custom work would easily be a few thousand credits. If you're talking financial compensation, the Temple's services have well exceeded my standard rates. I don't need more money from you and I don't want it."

Master Koon clasped his hands. "Detective, you are splitting hairs. Why are you so resistant to receiving payment?"

"Because last night I shot a friend to death and I don't want to get paid for it!" I snapped.

Master Koon regarded me carefully. "He was a Sith," he said, not unkindly. "You had no other option."

"I didn't want to and he didn't deserve it. Maybe if I were kinder or stronger, there would have _been_ another option. Maybe I could have saved him."

"Do you think it's possible? To save a Sith?

"Don't call him that. I don't know anything about the Sith. Factually, I know Maul was a Sith Apprentice at some point, and he was cruel and committed violence against innocents, but when I met him, he was just a person. He was hungry and homeless and in a lot of pain because someone had hurt him his entire life. He didn't know any other way to be. He didn't deserve that. Nobody does." I grimaced. "I don't know if I could have saved him. He wanted someone to be kind to him and to make him not feel so alone. I did what I could. It wasn't enough."

"You did your best."

"I did. I liked him, and I tried to help him," I said. "In the end, I killed him. I don't regret it--I had to, to save myself and Skywalker and Ahsoka and Rex, but that doesn't mean I can't still feel bad about it. I'm not that cold-hearted."

"Detective, I don't believe you have ever been cold-hearted. It's clear from even our brief acquaintance that you have an abundance of kindness. There is a great strength in that," Master Koon said. "It is not easy to hold on to that when you have been cruelly treated."

"Sure it is," I said. "All it takes is learning to break your own heart."

I hadn't wanted to learn Maul was the culprit I'd been chasing. I hadn't wanted to kill him. I cared as much as anyone ever could, but maybe it didn't matter--it hadn't stayed my hand. In the name of duty and protecting innocent lives, I had gunned him down like anyone else. Maybe I was just a hypocrite. Given the alternatives, I could live with that.

"I'm sorry," Master Koon said. There was something weighty in that apology--more than I could ever parse. "Despite everything, you cared deeply for Maul."

"I did. I won't be rewarded for killing him."

Master Koon bowed his head. "I understand."

Maybe he did. He'd seen me when the Force had taken me last night--who knew what I'd laid bare that convinced him to protect Maul's body in my stead.

"If you won't accept financial compensation, then how can we show you our gratitude?" Master Koon asked.

"Usually, saying 'thank you' is a good start."

"You are, of course, correct." Even with the mask, I got the impression Master Koon was smiling, or his species-equivalent. "Thank you, Detective Kenobi. For helping us recover Knight Skywalker and protecting him, as well as Padawan Tano and Captain Rex. You have saved the Order an incredible amount of strife and we are endlessly grateful."

I nodded. "I'm glad to have helped."

Master Koon clasped his hands in front of him. "I must ask again: Is there _anything_ we can do for you, Detective? Not just for this incident, but for the time since you left the Temple?"

I sighed. Say what you will about Jedi Masters, but they're stubborn as all hell. "None of you owe me anything for how I left. That's in the past and I'm happy to leave it there. But if you'll keep hounding me over this case, I will accept seven hundred credits," I said. "That's enough to cover my expenses and replace my coat, and then you can stop bothering me about it."

Master Koon nodded. "Seven hundred credits, then. I will have them transferred to you promptly."

"Thank you."

I watched as Master Koon sent off a message on his commlink. He seemed like an all right sort. Ahsoka obviously loved him dearly, and from what I could tell, he earned it. I wondered what it would be like, to be a Jedi Master out in this war, struggling to keep their compassion and kindness amidst the death and violence. Maybe I didn't have to wonder so much--I'd been in a war myself and had the same struggle to balance my heart with my duties. I had chosen hypocrisy over killing my heart or letting innocents get hurt, but maybe the Jedi had a better way in their serenity and guidance from the Force. Or maybe they were just like me, trying to manage in a cold and dark galaxy without losing themselves.

"Is there something I can help you with, Detective?" Master Koon asked.

"No," I said. "I was just thinking, that's all."

"About what, if I may ask?"

"The war, and the Jedi in it," I said. "My war cost me my faith and more than I could ever articulate, and the Republic's war is much bigger than Melida/Daan ever was. I don't know how you can function without breaking yourself down first." I pursed my lips.

Master Koon hummed thoughtfully. "You would know better than any of us, Detective Kenobi."

"We're not talking business anymore. You can call me Obi-Wan," I said. "I wouldn't say my experience directly applies. You still have the Force and each other, and your enemies are mostly droids. It's easier to justify things to yourself when your enemies don't bleed. Maybe that's enough to keep what's happened to me from happening to all of you."

"A war is a war," Master Koon replied. "But then, you already know that."

"I do. I'm scared, that's all. Scared for the Republic and for the Jedi--this business with Jango's clone army and the battle droids and the Sith is rotten all the way through. Something's been building for a long time, and something's got to give. Whatever is happening, I'm scared there's too much momentum now to keep us from hurtling over a cliff's edge. With Sith behind the war, maybe that's the point."

Master Koon looked down at his clasped hands. "I confess my fears are similar. As an Order we have long been clear-sighted. It has only been these recent years that we have found ourselves so blind. Perhaps you are correct--the Sith may be at work here, or Darkness in the galaxy because of this war. It has been a long time since we have clearly heard the will of the Force, even in the High Council."

"The will of the Force isn't everything." Then, remembering who I was talking to, I said, "Sorry. That was disrespectful. It's been a long time since I've spoken with Jedi."

"It is okay, Obi-Wan," Master Koon said. "It is not as if even those in the High Council have not lost their faith at times."

"Believe me, my faith isn't coming back. That's not what I meant to say. I meant that the Force might have its own agenda, but all of its agents are people. You don't need to hear the Force to have faith in it--there are millions or billions of people across the galaxy who do it every day. You can't afford to let blindness paralyze you, especially now. You have to act and make your own choices, and I guess in some ways, that's faith, too." I sighed. "Take that however you want. You don't need a heretic's advice to deal with your faith."

Master Koon was silent for a long moment as he regarded me. "I believe I see why little 'Soka thinks so well of you."

"She told you about me?"

"She didn't have time to say much yesterday, but I saw she braided your hair," Master Koon said. "She doesn't do that with just anyone; she's clearly fond of you. I am glad that in a darkening galaxy, she has a steadfast friend like you at her side."

"Even if I'm not a Jedi?"

"Even then."

I felt some sense of expectation from Master Koon, and I clasped my hands, feeling like I was sitting for an exam I hadn't studied for. "I'm honored to know her. She's a very driven young Padawan and her heart is in the right place. She'll do great things one day." I frowned. "Master Koon, why didn't _you_ take her as your Padawan? You clearly care about her the way a Master should."

"Dangers of attachment," Master Koon said, "and as a member of the High Council and therefore as a High General, I would be in much more dangerous situations than even Knight Skywalker. I wouldn't inflict that on little 'Soka."

It was as reasonable an answer as anyone could give, and an answer I couldn't really argue against, under the circumstances. From what I'd seen of the war, members of the High Council put their lives on the line just as much as--or more often than--every other Jedi. They weren't really in a position to take on Padawans now, especially not when they may have to choose between their Padawans and hundreds of civilian lives--a choice that would not be fair to either of them. Caught between the war and the Senate and the machinations of the Sith, harm reduction was about all the Order could manage now. I hated that, about as much as I ever hated anything anymore.

"She shouldn't be anywhere in a war zone to begin with."

"She should not," Master Koon agreed. "But we do not get to choose the circumstances of our upbringing, nor the duties we are shouldered with."

Perhaps that was true. Already, the war was taking its toll across the galaxy in blood, blood that the Jedi could save from being spilled. The Jedi were doing so much, much more than they were ever prepared or trained for, with nearly every Knight and Master already out contributing to the war front, and Padawans went where their Masters went. Deploying Padawans felt like a foregone conclusion. It didn't _have_ to be. It _shouldn't_ be, but there weren't a lot of alternatives as long as the war continued.

It made me bitter. I remembered long nights lying scared in trenches and blasted-out buildings and thinking the Republic was _better._ I remembered thinking _the Jedi would never let this happen,_ because the Jedi were peacekeepers, not warriors. I remembered being a youngling, being a strand of that only hope for the future, and hating the burden that had been forced upon me, to take on and fix the mistakes of the ones who had promised to care for me.

I wondered, not for the first time, about the price of innocence, and what could be bought with it. With the Sith sitting high on both sides above all the violence and pain, I wondered if they had penned that innocence in our ledgers from the start.

"I don't want a war that's fought by younglings and clones who are raised to die. There's already so much suffering in the galaxy--we shouldn't have to chain them and their fates to it. They deserve better than that," I said.

"They do, but unfortunately we do not live in a galaxy where all receive what they deserve."

"I know," I said. "I hate it. I really do. I wish the Jedi weren't in a place where they have to measure their ideals against the lives of others. I wish the Republic army could have the full lives they deserve, not just the one they're grown for. I'm trying to hold out hope, but it's hard when there's so much evil out there and there's hardly anything I can do to change it."

"The Force willing, we may defeat the Sith and stop the war before more lives are lost," Master Koon said. "Your contribution to that should not be overlooked."

"It doesn't feel like enough," I said. "It never does."

"And yet you try anyways." Master Koon tilted his head to one side. "It matters that you care, Obi-Wan. Your kindness and effort is felt in every person you meet. That is nothing to be ashamed of. No one one can change an entire galaxy on their own."

"I know. It's just hard, sometimes."

A small considering noise passed Master Koon's filter. "You are a credit to your teachings, Obi-Wan. In the time since you left the Order, you have found your strength and your place in the Galaxy--many Jedi cannot say the same. I truly believe, had you stayed with the Order, you would have become one of our very best."

I didn't know what to do with that. It was one thing to hear it from Ahsoka, who was young and in desperate need of a friend, but it was another thing entirely to hear it from a Master of the High Council. I didn't really want to know if I _could have_ been a Jedi. It didn't make me feel better to know I would have had another, probably better life if I hadn't walked away.

"There's hardly a point in wondering about it. It didn't happen."

Master Koon inclined his head. "No. It did not."

* * *

It took about three hours after that to finish up all my affairs in the Temple. Most of it was compiling information for Bail, while the rest was figuring out the logistics to take Maul to Dathomir. It had been easy enough to promise such a thing to a dying man, but not so simple to take a trip to the Outer Rim at the drop of a hat, and it had been years since I last had to prepare for such a long journey. If Master Windu had not stepped in and offered to assist my travel arrangements, I would have been in for an especially difficult time, considering I had no personal ship and most people frowned upon transporting corpses.

I didn't know _why_ Master Windu had offered, honestly. I hadn't thought he'd want anything to do with me after my less than polite manner in the Council Chamber, but he had approached me on his own when I was checking the Temple Archives. He said a lot of things, including that he was a friend of Master Jinn's and that he was personally very sorry about what had happened to me. I didn't need his apologies, but I let him say them--they were more for him than for me anyways. Maybe he felt more culpable as Master Jinn's friend and a member of the High Council, though there was hardly anything he could have done, and I told him so. I don't think that helped much. That kind of guilt didn't go away so easily.

It was nearly 1600 and I sat on a crate in the Temple's hangar beside the cargo ship I'd be hitching a ride with, waiting for the last of the supplies to get loaded and the maintenance checks to finish up. With nothing better to do than wait, I found myself staring up at the pale and cloudless blue sky. It was the strangest thing to see the Coruscant sky without smog. I'd never noticed that about the Temple before, that even its sky was different from how it was anywhere else on the planet. It was a beautiful color--I wished I could see it more often. I wondered what kind of chemical scrubbers they needed to accomplish that.

"Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan!"

I brought my gaze down to see Rex and Ahsoka leaning against him, approaching at a clumsy speed-walk.

"Ahsoka," I said. "Are you supposed to be out of the Halls of Healing already?"

"Why didn't you tell us you were going? I had to hear from Barriss you were leaving!" Ahsoka shouted.

I blinked. Barriss was the Padawan who was traveling with her Master on this supply run, so that part made sense, but the rest didn't. Skywalker had been rescued, and I'd made my report and received payment. My case was emphatically over, so naturally I would leave. The only reason I _hadn't_ left already was because going to Dathomir was a little more difficult than returning to my apartment. I told her as much.

Ahsoka frowned. "You weren't even going to say _goodbye?_ "

"I...generally don't," I said. "Even if I wanted to, I had no idea you were awake."

"Well, I _am_ awake," Ahsoka said. "And you should say goodbye before you go. That's what friends do."

"Is it?" Most of the goodbyes I'd ever made were with the intention of never seeing the other person again. It didn't seem very friendly.

Ahsoka nodded seriously. "You're supposed to say goodbye, and then I can say 'may the Force be with you', and then we hug. That's the rule whenever someone goes off-planet."

That had definitely not been a thing when I was a Padawan, but then, I hadn't grown up during an active war. "I see. Well, who am I to go against the rules? Goodbye, Ahsoka."

She threw her arms around me and squeezed tightly. "May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan. Thanks for helping us find Skyguy and everything."

I hugged her back. "I'm glad I could help."

"Thanks for being there and talking to me and buying dinner and teaching me and stuff, too. I really liked spending time with you." Ahsoka buried her face in my shoulder and said, "You're not allowed to disappear, okay? You're like the weird uncle I never knew, and I want to hang out with you more."

"I'm a weird uncle?" I asked. "I can't even be a cool uncle?"

"Well, you _are_ weird, Obi-Wan. You've got all your weird Force stuff and you're smart and sometimes you're kind of scary with the things you know that you're not supposed to know."

"You're giving me some mixed signals here, Ahsoka."

Ahsoka squeezed me. "You're weird, but I like that. I like you. I'm going to really miss you."

She reached out to me in the Force, and her presence pressed against mine with happiness and warmth that nearly took my breath away. I patted her on the back. "I'll miss you, too. My trip shouldn't take more than a month altogether. You'll see me again soon enough, Ahsoka."

She pulled back from me, still holding my shoulders. "A month is a long time! How are you even going to get to the Outer Rim? Isn't that dangerous?"

"I'm going with Master Unduli to the Mid-Rim, and after that I'll go with Master Vos to Dathomir. He's got some Jedi business there, apparently, though I can't imagine what." The Jedi escort was unnecessary, but since the alternative was traveling out for so long on my own, I hadn't argued. I suspected Master Windu and some other members of the High Council were scared that if they let me out of their sight, I'd end up getting myself killed for real. That would be embarrassing, especially so soon after my return to the Temple. "You don't need to worry. I'm in good hands and I know how to take care of myself." 

Ahsoka made a face. "Master Vos is good hands?"

"Well, _capable_ hands, anyways," I allowed. "Quinlan and I were friends when I was still at the Temple. The second leg of my trip will either be very interesting or very awkward. Possibly both."

"Yeah, but you'll be on a ship with him. Alone," Ahsoka said. Maybe Quinlan was more of a disaster than I remembered, or she just didn't like him.

"Ahsoka, I'll be fine. I haven't survived this long just to be defeated by a tenday around Quinlan Vos. The worst that will happen is he makes fun of me for growing a beard," I said. "What about you? Will you be okay?"

"Um, I think so," Ahsoka said. "I don't...know what'll happen with Skyguy. He still hasn't woken up, and the Healers don't think it'll be safe for me to be around him for a while even when he does. But I've still got my Padawan courses to take care of, so..." She shrugged. "I guess I'll have plenty to do while I wait."

"Those studies are important, dear Padawan," I said. "They'll help you on your way to becoming a Knight."

Ahsoka pouted at me. "But it's _boring._ "

I laughed. "Well, some things in life are boring, dear Padawan. Do your best, okay?" I looked at her, so young and _earnest_ despite what she'd been through, then let my smile fall. I set a hand on her shoulder. "Ahsoka. If you ever need help, you have my comm code. I'll do my best to get back to you as soon as possible. And if...if something falls through, and you find that the Jedi lifestyle is not for you, I can help you. Whatever path you choose, you're not alone."

Ahsoka nodded gravely. "I know. Is it...okay if I comm you while you're off-planet?"

"Of course. I daresay with how my next few weeks are shaping up, it'll be good to see a familiar face from time to time. I'd love to hear how you're doing," I said. "Thank you, Ahsoka. Rex. I won't say I enjoyed the past three days, but it would have been much worse without you. Your ingenuity and dedication was indispensable in tracking down Skywalker."

If Ahsoka could blush, she probably would have. "We just did what you taught us."

"And you did it very well. Words can't describe how proud I am of both of you, and how grateful I am for your help and your company."

Rex nodded sharply. "You too, Obi-Wan."

Just then, one of the Republic soldiers on the ship called my name. "The last of the cargo's loaded and final checks are complete. We're ready to take off," he said. "You'll want to get on the ship, sir."

"I'll be right up!" I shouted back. To Rex and Ahsoka, I said, "That's my cue to go."

I got off of my crate and hugged them both.

"May the Force be with you," Ahsoka said.

"Stay safe," Rex said.

"I'll see you again. Until then, take care." I pulled away from them, picked up my things, then made my way up the spaceship ramp.

I had a promise to fulfill.

**Author's Note:**

> We made it to the end! Thank you to everyone who's read along and given a frankly unbelievable amount of support for this story! I thought, going into this, that the only people who would be interested in reading it was basically just me, and other people who also think it would be funny to cross Star Wars with detective noir. So major thanks to everyone who gave this a chance even though it's a story about Obi-Wan not being a Jedi, written in first person, and a completely different genre from your typical Star Wars story. I hope you enjoyed Obi-Wan and his little adventure into dealing with Skywalker Drama and Childhood Trauma.
> 
> My original word count estimate for this story was about 50k, if you can believe it (this was before I thought up the "Obi-Wan gets arrested" arc), and now we're here, just over 115k. That's almost as long as _The Long Goodbye!_
> 
> I drew some art of [Detective](https://jessepinwheel.tumblr.com/post/640984839422705664/sometimes-youre-just-a-sad-detective-chilling-out) [Obi-Wan](https://jessepinwheel.tumblr.com/post/641087263469715456/tfw-when-you-left-the-jedi-order-and-you-still), if you're into that sort of thing.
> 
> For those of you wondering about a sequel, I have no plans to write a direct sequel--the adventures of Obi-Wan and Quinlan in Dathomir will unfortunately remain in the realm of imagination. However, I've got some ideas floating around for Detective Obi-Wan and I'll probably write some stories adjacent to this. In the meantime, you can check out [Sequential Logic,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25898308/chapters/62935765) (also the next story in this series) which is a bunch of snippets of stuff mostly happening after the events of _Asynchronous Circuit_. You can also stop by my [Tumblr](https://jessepinwheel.tumblr.com) to request snippets. All my fic updates are there, too.
> 
> If you've enjoyed this story, feel free to comment! I always like to hear what people think :)
> 
> If this story has made you interested in hardboiled fiction and you want to see what else is out there, [I wrote a short primer on the subject!](https://jessepinwheel.tumblr.com/post/618486442850746368/so-you-want-to-try-hardboiled-fiction-a-primer)


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